Into The Wasteland: Revised
by Masstheory
Summary: Douglas was always the class prankster, in love in the Overseer's daughter. But when his dad leaves the vault and shatters the thin illusion of security, he's left with no choice but to leave the vault and find him. However, an act of kindness means he is no longer the Lone Wanderer. Warning: Will contain more mature themes than other stories I have published.
1. Why Do Fools Fall in Love?

**Heyo! The changes took much longer than anticipated and it was a b**** to rework everything. While the first chapter won't be so obvious about the changes beyond grammatical changes and other creative freedom, the other chapters will be vastly different. Another reason I took so long is I wanted to make sure it was cool with Sonicstorm if I did my own interpretation beyond simply trying to finish his early work and man, does that guy take forever to respond. But anyways, this is mostly done in the large sense, with me hoping that the generous and gallant (I know, kiss assing won't get me anywhere.) readers of fanfiction will enjoy. But do not dare hold back your criticism, as I have worked hard on this. It just wouldn't feel natural if I told people because its my first time within this setting. **

**As for readers expecting another update on my FF story, I simply wish to take a break from attempting to write mass effect and see if the writing comes easier. But in any case, Read, Enjoy, Review.**

"Come on, let's go get some lunch." Amata Almodovar said as she passed by Douglas, who had been patiently waiting for her to receive the results of her G.O.A.T exam. Douglas stood up and waved for her to lead the way, falling in behind her as she walked. They walked in silence for a moment, stewing the results of their G.O.A.T in their minds, or perhaps more accurately in Douglas's case, the questions he had to answer to get them. For the amount of studying that they had down, or the amount worrying that they had down for a simple survey that determined their future. Although, judging by the bouncing steps and almost infectious smile, Amata was clearly happy with her result of Supervisory track her G.O.A.T. promise. Douglas on the other hand, got stuck with the job that most teenagers and their parents feared. Garbage Burner. "You know, some very famous people have been garbage burners."

"Oh yeah, I dare you to name one." Douglas challenged with mock offense. Amata scrunched her face as she thought before shaking her head in defeat.

"Alright, fine, you got me. Maybe you can convince Mr. Brotch to change the results somehow." Amata suggested with a shrug.

"No madame, I am a man. I will suffer my transgressions with glory and go through even the most degrading of jobs with my head held high. And it is pronounced Waste Management Specialist." Douglas announced as he came to a halt, raising his head high and giving a superhero pose. Amata gave an unconvinced smile and poked his puffed out chest rather roughly. His chest deflated and he gave a hurt expression as he rubbed his chest. Then sharing a laugh, they continued onwards towards the cafeteria for the this day's latest lunch. However, as they walked in relative silence once more, Douglas began to chuckle once more.

"Butch is a hair stylist." He told his female companion when she raised a single eyebrow in his direction. She smiled for a moment at this before sharing in his chuckle as she remembered how angry Douglas's childhood bully and Amata's constant harasser had gotten when their teacher had addressed him as a Hair Dresser. Although they both knew that 'Waste Management Specialist' wasn't exactly a job that could be rubbed into anyways face either.

After they both got a fair laugh from this, they once more fell into silence. As they walked, approaching the stairs that would lead them down towards the cafeteria, Douglas reached into his pocket and pulled out his father's vault-boy medicine Bobblehead. Douglas always liked the depiction of the Vault boy, though he wasn't exactly sure why. Something about the cartoonish way he was always presented and the fact that no matter what, he always had a smile on his face amused Douglas to know end. On the bobblehead, it was just the Vault boy, with an oversized needle that was bigger than he was, with a small inscription in it. "A true doctor knows that a band-aid only covers the wound."

His father always told him that just having the thing made him feel more like a doctor and granted him luck whenever he was in a difficult situation with a patient. It was probably a Darius family quirk, believing in lucky objects, as he had always relied on the hat he had received on his tenth birthday for luck, wearing it almost everywhere he went. Still, for what he was about to do, he needed all the luck he could get. Bopping the bobblehead, hoping to steal its mysterious power, he finally managed to peak his confidence.

"So, Amata, do you remember when Christine and I were….dating?" Douglas said, air quoting the word dating. Of course, dating was simply a nicer way of saying that there had been a very persistent rumor that Christine was currently taking Douglas in to dirty the sheets. She had unfortunately been stuck with a reputation of promiscuity by the Tunnel Snakes and if she spent more than an hour talking to someone of the opposite sex, the rumors flew fast. And being in the vault, they flew faster than one could possibly imagine.

"Yeah, I can't believe I fell for Butch's stupid lie." She said, shaking her head in disappointment at the history of it and blushing slightly as well. Christine had finally been the one to set the record straight with Amata, finally telling her that Douglas had simply needed history tutoring and was too embarrassed to ask Amata.

"Me neither. You kept giving me the cold shoulder, glaring at me from across the room, begrudgingly working with me. One would almost think you were jealous." He pointed out, walking faster and then getting in front of her. He didn't stop, walking backwards down the stairs as he spoke, It was a skill he had learned simply to mess with his father and Amata, who both would worry when he did so. True to history, Amata's face screwed up, with worry and she glanced behind him to make sure he wasn't walking into anything.

"I hate it when you do that." She complained quickly, seizing her chance to change the subject. "You're going to run into something or fall down the stairs and you're going to be in the doctor's office for weeks. Again!"

"Oh please, I have perfected the art of backwards walk. Besides, that one time was just bad luck and you know it." Douglas responded. "You changed the subject by the way."

"I was just upset you didn't come to me for help okay? We've been over this. I had perfect grades in class and you went to Christine for help." She gave the excuse that she had several years ago. Douglas smiled and gave her a skeptical look, causing her blush to intensify. Of course, he knew it wasn't true. Christine had told him that Amata was very surprised at the turn of events and had tried to laugh it off.

"See, now that is a shame. Because it would make what I have to ask you so much more…..difficult." Douglas said as he felt the bottom of the end of the stairs meet his feet. Amata looked up, staring at him with what looked like confusion and….an insy bit of hope. His confidence at its height, Douglas opened his mouth to ask the question he had been mulling over all day. Only to have a fist connect to his jaw and send him to the floor with a bloodied mouth. The punch was jarring enough that the red ball cap that Douglas had been wearing flew off his head and hit the floor.

"Tunnel Snakes rule!" Announced the leader of the Tunnel Snakes as Butch and his gang fell out of their hiding places and descended upon the ambushed Douglas. Amata watched in helplessness as the three began to hit and kick the teen that was now on the floor, curled into a ball in a measly defense. No doubt this was revenge for the amount of bruises and cuts he had left with Butch the first time that they had fought. Douglas had managed to goad the leader of the Tunnel Snakes into a one-on-one fight and use the self-defense tricks his father had taught him to win against Butch earlier in the day when they wouldn't leave Amata alone. But now, the Tunnel Snakes not only had the advantage of numbers but also the advantage of surprise.

Amata, knowing if she just stood around any longer, Douglas would end up nothing more than a bloody pulp, quickly looked around for a weapon. She didn't have the physical brawn to deal with Butch's petty gang. Spotting a toolbox left out by the Vault's mechanic Stanley, she rushed over. Despite the guilt she would feel later, she silently thanked her fortune that the mechanic had been so forgetful lately. Opening the toolbox and taking out the first thing she could get her hands on that was solid and heavy, she rushed towards where the Tunnel Snakes were still beating Douglas. Unfortunately for Butch, he was the first person to notice her charging, meaning he was the one who received the vicious hit to the face.

The impact of hit jarred her body, causing her hands to hurt just hanging onto the wrench she had turned into a weapon. Butch stumbled away, hitting the wall with all his weight and slumping as the blood began to pool in his mouth. It was lucky for him that Amata had not put every ounce of her strength into the blow or he may have had more than a chipped tooth and split lip to worry about. Freddie and Wally paused as Amata threatened them next, holding the wrench she had grabbed as a worthy club. They back away from her, their eyes rife with fear at the fact that the Overseer's daughter had just taken down their leader with one blow. It wasn't until the Tunnel Snakes turned tail and ran, leaving an injured Butch to stumble after them before she finally lowered the weapon.

"Bitch." Was the last thing that she had heard before the Tunnel Snakes leader stumbled out of eyesight.

* * *

"Butch has gone too far this time. I should report him to the Overseer." James growled to himself as wrapped the bandage around his son's head. Douglas, wincing as the tight bandage covered his pounding head, grimaced at the thought of bringing the Overseer into this. His jumpsuit was unzipped down to the waist, so that his dad could wrap the bandages around his cracked ribs.

"Yeah right. The Overseer would probably throw them a party to celebrate. Maybe even have an awards ceremony and present him with the Vault's equivalent of a medal of honor." Douglas hissed through the pain. James sighed and rubbed his head with annoyance.

"You know that isn't fair. The Overseer may not be the most agreeable person but he does his jobs just like any of us do. That's just something you learn to accept down here." James told his son. It had always been like this, with Douglas insulting the Overseer every chance he had gotten ever since he reached his teen years. Not that many of his insults weren't completely unfounded, but that was hardly the point.

"A guess being a pompous ass is just part of the job then." Douglas sighed as he adjusted himself on the pillow. He had barely been in his bed for more than an hour but he was already growing restless. His father had told him that the best thing he could do was get some rest and heal his concussion, but just for good measure, he medically ordered his rebel son to his bed.

"No, that's just one of the perks." James chuckled. "Well, son, as much as I enjoy patching you up, I have other patients to attend to. Stanley got his hand caught in one of the generator's gears and needs it patched up. That being said, if I come back to this room, and you're not here, I will not be pleased." With that veiled threat left to Douglas's imagination, James stood up and left the room with a good-bye.

Douglas sighed and laid his head back, trying to occupy his mind with idle fantasy. For about half an hour, he amused himself with plotting intricate and far-fetched revenge schemes against DeLoria, some of which involved locking him in the areas of the vault that were sanctioned off or humiliating the bully in some grand way that told him that the Darius was not to be messed with, most of which physically impossible. Once he grew bored with that, he began to imagine new ways to mess with the security or higher ups of the vault, although many of his plans he knew would land him in the vault's security lock up….again. He could already see his father, shaking his head in disappointment as he once more got his son out of the cell after unscrewing the pipes of the guard's personal bathroom or after hacking their computers and making a funny image pop up after a certain word was typed. After an hour passed, when the door to his room finally opened, he would have accepted anyone, even Butch DeLoria to keep him company.

"Hey." Greeted Amata as she came into the room. She walked over, settling nicely on the edge of Douglas's bed. She paused as she looked over his various bandages, her face clearly unhappy with what happened. "Your father said you were okay, beyond a minor concussion, and that, as long as I didn't encourage misbehavior, I could visit."

"Well, he's too late. I'm already up to my old schemes. I already have a plan that involves loose pipes, a broken lock and Butch's bathroom." Douglas answered. He even put his hands together in a pyramid and gave an evil laugh to complete the scene, causing Amata to let out a small giggle. Then, calming down, she reached into her jumpsuit's pocket and removed a very familiar red item.

"I brought your hat back. Figured I should grab it before one of the 'Waste management specialists' decided to throw it away." She told him, tossing him the pre-war baseball cap. Douglas caught it with one hand, grimacing as he looked at his soiled hat. The once clean red cloth had a black boot mark down the middle where one of the Tunnel Snakes had stomped it into the ground, and a few splotches of blood were on the bill, either from his or Butch's blood. Douglas sighed, looking up to see Amata staring at him with a worried face. Quickly, he quenched his grimace and put on a large but teasing smile.

"Oh, you got my hat. You do care." He told her before unfolding the hat and roughly shoving it onto his head. "This will now be my war trophy. The time where I survived the ambush from the dreaded Tunnel snakes." He ignored the dull thuds of pain at this new compression and kept his smile up for the girl on his bed. She gave a small smile back before glancing down at the floor. And there they sat, in an awkward silence for the better part of two minutes as both avoided the uneasy eye contact with each other.

"So, before the Tunnel Snakes ambushed you…you were saying something." She finally spoke up. Feeling his heart double in speed and lacking the confidence that he had managed to muster at the time, Douglas chose to stare at the ceiling as he said:

"Uh, was I? I don't quite remember. I think it may have had something to do with firecrackers." He scratched the back of his head in unease, hoping Amata didn't catch onto his obvious avoidance of the question. "Maybe I was talking about how I was planning my great Firecracker Extravaganza to mess with your dad." Amata sighed and twiddled her fingers.

"You know, it wasn't because you didn't come to me. Well, not mostly." Amata said, turning and looking at Douglas with her brown eyes.

"Um, what?" Douglas asked for clarification at this seemingly random remark made by his childhood friend.

"When I was…..jealous…." She said the word begrudgingly and as if she didn't want to, but it still made Douglas get a half-smile as he guessed what was coming. Seeing his smile, she puffed her cheeks angrily and looked away, only made worse when Douglas laughed at this reaction. Plus, it didn't help that she looked pretty cute when doing this. "Forget it, I'm not finishing."

"But Aaaamataaaaaaa!" Douglas complained, doing his best to sound like a spoiled child. Her angrily puffed cheeks went down and was replaced with a smile. Then she stood up and made her way to the door. "Wait! That's it? Nothing else to say? No big revelation to revel?" Douglas questioned hopefully, causing her to pause at the door.

"Hmmmm." She said, tapping her chin as if she was deep in thought about her next actions. "Get better and we'll talk about it."

**Expect many changes to be made. Characters are purposefully OOC, so as to give them actual personality and such, because...let's be honest, Amata isn't exactly a well-rounded character. Also, I made Douglas way more jocular than he had been before, and gave him the more pranksterish mindset. He'll maintain that jocular attitude, but the mindset will fade with time. That being said, hope you enjoyed the chapter put forward.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Heyo! This is the second installment the Into the Wasteland saga, an original chapter to actually hint at the fact father-o was going to leave. or not. I just felt this chapter was needed. In any case, I do have some notes before we beginning. Thinking about it and failing in the actual execution, the characters will act more modernish. So, Butch will probably be acting more like a punk and bully rather than a greaser. But, hopefully, that's not something that will affect the story negatively. Read, Enjoy, Review.**

Douglas sighed as he laid down on his bed, covered in the grime of another day of hard work. His father didn't say anything to him, somewhat of a blessing as Douglas doubted he would have the energy to respond. Burning garbage always sounded easy and a job to mock at the people who took it seriously, but damn if it didn't leave your muscles aching at the end of the day. The things that people convince themselves that they need to throw away often weighed more than one would think. After about ten minutes of lying motionless on his bed, Douglas finally gathered enough energy to spin himself around and look around for something to snack on. It was his normal ritual. Get home, pretend to sleep for a number of minutes, get up and eat his daily rations in a single setting, and then actually going to sleep.

"Hey, Dad, I don't suppose we have any of those Snack Cakes this week? I'm kind of getting sick of crams and all that. I need something unhealthy for me that's actually worth it." Douglas questioned as he slowly made his way into the kitchen. Having more spoken just to hear his own voice, Douglas had already dug through their available rations before realizing his father had not responded. "Hey dad, you here?" No response.

Douglas scratched his head, curious as to where his father could be as his old man normally beat him home after work. Maybe an emergency at the office? No, that was one of the advantages and disadvantages of being stuck in a massive underground vault. Secrets and rumors didn't stay that for very long. No doubt one of his co-workers or someone on the way up would have off-handedly mentioned something like that happening had it actually done so. Sighing, he rubbed his head and realized he should seek out his father. If anything, it was to make sure that the old man was alright since he was rarely late coming home.

The teenage garbage burner slowly trudged through the halls, his feet barely lifting off the ground as he walked, his legs feeling like lead the more he walked. He made it a couple of wings over before he finally ran into someone. Unfortunately for Douglas, it was his old bully, Butch. Butch had calmed down a little since being made into a barber, not wanting to admit to anyone that he had found an odd comfort in the job. More than once, he had walked by the barber to hear Butch humming a tune to himself when he was alone. Or maybe it was just because people didn't trust an angry teen with a pair of blades near their heads and his job was put on the line. Douglas often chose to accept the latter as fact, despite evidence to the contrary. Butch seemed startled when Douglas paused and stared at him, standing up from where he had been sitting against one of the support walls of the vault. "What do you want?!" Butch growled at him, straightening his jacket and puffing out his chest.

Douglas sighed and shook his head. Almost ten years now, him and Butch had been butting heads every time that they had met. Ten years since the bully had attempted to steal his sweet roll and Douglas had been adamant in refusing him. Ten years since Butch had broken his favorite victim's BB gun as revenge for Officer Gomez yelling at him for that same incident. About three years since he embarrassed Butch in a fight and then got ambushed later. "Me? I was just strolling through the vault in the off hours, thinking about ways to fuck with Butch Deloria today because I never have anything better to do in the middle of the night when I could be sleeping. You know, the usual." He replied, hoping his insult was sarcastic enough to strike. His tired mind felt like it was swimming through mud just trying to put together his thoughts. Butch growled and clenched his fist, genuinely believing that Douglas was about to start something.

"Well, just try. I've been wanting another rematch since your bitch hit me in the face." Butch told him, getting into his fighting position. Douglas shook his head weakly before waving Butch off. The Tunnel Snake had been grousing about that event to Amata and Douglas any time he was in the same room with them. Of course, he always twisted it so that it was Butch himself who took down Douglas and Amata had ambushed him with a ten-pound monkey wrench to the back of the head.

"God Butch, do you have nothing better to do with your time?" Douglas told him. "If you really want to know, I'm just looking for my dad. He isn't home yet and I want to make sure he didn't break a hip or something." Butch seemed to deflate a little at this remark but he quickly recovered in an attempt to save face. He puffed out his chest once more and put on a cocksure grin as if he had just won their unfought battle.

"Yeah, whatever, you're just too scared to fight me without your girlfriend to back you up." Butch announced proudly, laughing mockingly at Douglas. Douglas rolled his eyes, wondering if Butch had always been this deceived about the amount of fear he actually demanded in the vault.

"Yeah, sure, whatever. I'm quaking in my boots. If you don't mind, I'm going to leave now." Douglas told the disillusioned bully. He turned to continue on, only to stop when he heard a very faint voice calling from the opposite end of the hall. Butch paled and looked away, acting as if he could not hear the voice calling but Douglas stopped, listening and trying to decipher what the voice was in fact saying. "Butchie!" The voice called again, growing louder as the owner began to raise her voice. The word was slurred and said with a slight hint of amusement despite the lack of a joke. However, both boys knew who was calling the name and just why she was calling it like she was.

Douglas was aware that Butch was watching him with a strange expression. One that hoped that Douglas wouldn't inquire, wouldn't tease, or wouldn't comment. An expression akin to fear but not quite with the same overture. It was no secret that Butch's mom spent most of her ration cards on alcohol, making many of the vault wonder how she had nearly enough to feed her son. Of course, knitting circle rumors let people choose which one they would like to believe. Douglas's personal favorite was the one involving Amata's father, but only because it made her blush and angrily deny it.

The idea to taunt Butch came to him for a moment, to mock him about his insecurity as the bully had done so many times to him. The taunts immediately came to mind, forming what Douglas considered to be well-crafted masterpieces of the revenge sage. The words were on the tip of his tongue, trying to force his mouth open in a way that would let them get out and spew their harsh justice. His emotions were already reveling of the faces he could force onto Deloria's face just by uttering a couple of words. But, despite his every instinct fighting him, Douglas simply brushed his shirt as if he had noticed a dirt spot on it and continued on in the search of his father. He even pretended not to hear the small sigh of relief.

When Douglas did eventually find his father, it wasn't in his medical office nor the small office that Jonas used when he worked with the doctor, but down in the shooting range. It was still set up, though mostly out of the sentiment since his disuse of the thing was spanning into the years. James and Jonas were seated on the cover that they had installed, both staring at the targets as they had their conversation in a hushed whisper. Both were so engrossed, they didn't notice that Douglas had entered the room and was walking towards them.

"…..should come with me, Jonas. I could always use the help." Douglas overheard as he stepped closer.

"I'm sorry James but I can't. I've already told you that. Besides, someone has to train the new kid." Jonas denied, apparently for another time. Douglas realized that he had stopped and was eavesdropping on the two adult's conversation. His father never quite appreciated it when Douglas did this, so to save himself the earful he would surely get later, Douglas stepped up and alerted the two by clearing his throat. James and Jonas jumped, both leaping to their feet and with faces that made it seem as if they had just been caught plotting rebellion.

"Douglas, what are you doing here? Aren't you normally asleep by now?" James demanded to know when they both saw who it was that had managed to sneak up on them.

"You weren't home and I was worried you broke a hip walking up the stairs or something." Douglas joked, waving off his father's rather irked expression. His dad frowned even more at being called old, something that Douglas had been doing with more and more frequency the older he got despite his father's growing annoyance to it. But, knowing his son didn't truly mean it, James sighed and rested a hand on Douglas's shoulder, motioning for his son to follow him away from where they were standing. Jonas watched them go as if he wanted to say something but didn't speak his thoughts or join the two.

They walked for a few moments in silence, just about until they were out of earshot of Jonas and into the main reactor room. "You know, you're an adult now Douglas, you shouldn't be so reliant on me." James told his son, turning towards him and leaning on the wall. "One day, it's just going to be you by yourself in your own room and I won't be around to help you."

"I'm not reliant. I just wanted to know if we had Snack Cakes somewhere." Douglas told him, shrugging off his dad's suggestion. James sighed and rubbed his forehead as if he was exasperated with Douglas's never-ending sweet tooth.

"They're in the cupboard behind the crams." His father told him. "You need to lay off the junk food or you're going to end up overweight."

"Eh, I'll be fine. Besides, the Vault needs a few overweight people. We're all like little toothpicks walking the halls." Douglas shrugged as if he didn't care. Truth was, his work was much more strenuous than one would normally be lead to believe. After all, heaving huge piles of garbage into an incinerator was good exercise on most days. Douglas often founds himself surprised on how so few people could produce as much garbage as he had to burn. "So, did something happen in the clinic? Why are you and Jonas down here in the shadows? You're not planning to overthrow the Vault's Overseer?" Douglas almost didn't see it, barely catching the fact that his father hesitated before he answered the question.

"No, its nothing. We were just discussing ways to produce more medical supplies. What we have is only going to last us so many generations." James told him, shaking his head. "Look, just go back to the room and get some sleep."

"Shame. I could have been the voice that convinced the youth to join the rebellion." Douglas shrugged and turned around, ready to head off with assurance. He was too tired to really poke around his dads business at the moment, deciding it was a task best left for tomorrow when his mind wasn't muddled with weariness and his wit was a little sharper.

"Douglas…" James' son stopped as he heard his father call his name.

"Yeah?" He responded as he turned around. James paused, the mix of emotions that dashed across his face in those few seconds so confusing that Douglas couldn't quite figure it out before it disappeared altogether and was replaced with a smile.

"Good night, kiddo."

**Well, I'm sure by now it's obvious about some of the changes that I am going to make from the original. Also, I would like to assuage fears about whether or not all the characters that were in the original will appear. I did like the idea of Frank, so she will appear as will Amata, but that much was probably obvious. Until next time. **


	3. Someone to Watch Over Me

**Heyo! Hey, I figured that since the last chapter was a short one and didn't contribute too much to the progression of the story, I'd give you guys chapter three a little earlier. Needless to say, a lot more happens in this one. Following Sonicstorm's previous pacing to an extent, this is the revised addition of the Escape mission. Oh, before you proudly turn your head and announce you do not read rehashes, I implore to think again as it is in fact changed. Read, Enjoy, Review.**

Amata waited in her room as the alarms continued to sound, watching the door to their apartment for any sign. Her father had stormed into the room when the alarms sounded and told her to stay put, refusing to explain anything to her. Normally, she would have continued to riddle him with questions but the look on his face was pure fury. So she quietly obeyed and was now waiting in her room, with nothing to do but stare at the door. But her curiosity was getting the better of her. Every few seconds she found herself closer and closer to the door that led to the common room until she eventually was walking out and looking around. She pulled the bobby pin from her hair and knelt near her father's office door and went to work at picking the lock. Surely his computer would have something interesting on it.

Just as she was about to open the lock, she heard rush of feet outside of the door and her father's voice yelling something indistinguishable. Thinking fast, she quickly ran into living room and tucked herself behind the sofa, just out of sight of her father. She hoped he wasn't coming to check on her otherwise it would be obvious that she was no longer in her room. Just as she situated herself comfortably into the hiding spot, her father rushed in followed by three guards followed with a shape in between. They threw the person into the chair at the desk near the entrance to her father's office, and the Overseer began a calm pace that he always did when he was interrogating someone. But that air that surrounded him was pure malice.

"Why did you let James out?" He demanded to know. When the man said nothing, Alphonse motioned to one of the guards, one she recognized as Officer Mack. Mack nodded, then raised his police baton and brought it down on the shape. Amata covered her mouth to keep her surprised gasp from being heard. The man let out a pained grunt and doubled over in pain. "Do I have to repeat myself Jonas?" _Jonas? Why was her father torturing Jonas?_

"Not everyone is afraid of you, Alphonse." Jonas replied calmly, though the pain was obvious in his voice.

"I should have known that assigning you to be James' assistant was asking for insubordination to breed. I had hoped it would have to opposite effect. Now, tell me why James left the Vault?" Her father answered. _James left the vault? What the hell is going on? _When Jonas didn't answer, the Overseer motioned to Officer Mack once more. Another raise of the club and another grunt of pain. Amata was forced to watch in silence as the interrogation turned more into a torture routine. When Mack hit Jonas for a fifth time, he didn't stop until Jonas was limp against the floor. Officer Gomez, which she recognized second, took a step back as he watched the assorted officers beat Jonas to death, a green tint across his face. Horror flashed across his eyes as he realized the lack of regret among most of the officers.

"Nice going Mack, you killed him." The officer next to Mack muttered. From the sound of it, it was Officer Wolfe. "How are we supposed to get what we need now?" The Overseer scratched his chin in thought and he nodded when he reached a conclusion.

"Kendall, get James' son. James told the boy everything. He'll know what the hell this is all about. Gomez, go back by the Doctor's office in case he goes there. You two, I need you to guard the Vault exit…." Amata's eyes widened as she realized they meant Douglas. She looked at Jonas' limp form and imagined her boyfriend in the place of Jonas. A second later, she was sprinting from the room with her father's yelled protests behind her.

* * *

Douglas was dancing the Irish clog dance while Amata laughed in the corner with a blare sounding off in the background every few seconds when Amata suddenly sprinted forward, grabbed him by the shirt and yelled: "Get up!" The dream grew dark and he was met with an irritable alarm noise. He slowly pried open one eye and looked sleepily at Amata as she stood over him. He turned his back to her and groggily said:

"Leave me alone. I'm trying to sleep." He had just got comfortable once more when he felt her grab the back of his vault suit and pull him from the bed. He landed on the metal floor with a yelp and looked up at her, the shock having woken him up fully.

"Come on, you have to wake up!" She pleaded with him.

"How weird, I was just dreaming about you. You were torturing me then too. Probably a premonition." He joked as he rubbed his eyes.

"Now's not the time to be a smart-mouth! This is serious!" Amata practically yelled as her face grew more panicked. Douglas held his next quip at the look on her face, realizing this was much more serious than Amata normally looked. "My father's men are looking for you! They've already killed Jonas, and you've got to get out of here!"

"….What?" Douglas felt his mind swarm with multitude of questions. "Jonas is…..dead? What the hell's going on?"

"It's your dad, he's left the vault!"

"What do you mean? What's going on?" Douglas demanded to know as he jumped to his feet.

"My father thinks Jonas helped your dad escape, so he had his men...My god, they killed him... they just beat him and beat him and wouldn't stop... Mack was out of control. He just didn't stop. And my father….my father just let him." Amata's tears fell down her face as she was finally forced to confront what she had witnessed. Douglas immediate action was to comfort her with a hug and asking her:

"Oh my god….Are you okay?" After a few seconds of this, she finally pulled away and nodded as she wiped her tears away.

"Don't' worry about me. I'm just…..I'm sorry you had to find out like this. I know that Jonas was your friend." He couldn't but nod as he silently mourned Jonas' loss. A thousand thoughts swarmed through his mind as he tried to make sense of what Amata was telling him. _Jonas was dead. Dad is gone. What….what is happening? Why did he leave? How did he leave?_ A thousand more what, why and how's flew threw his mind before Amata snapped him back to reality.

"We have to go now. My father's men will be here any second." She told him. He nodded and reached under his bed where he kept an old duffel bag he found in the closed off sections of the vault. It was the same color of their jumpsuits with a large 101 on the bottom with a sturdy strap with a comfort pad that would slid up and down when not used. It had a variety of pockets, and Douglas was sure that it was designed for the Security guards back when the Vault had that many people. He quickly walked over to the desk where he kept all his memorability and most of his vault suits and began to shovel everything he could get his hands on inside it. He didn't quite know what he intended to do with some of the things he grabbed, such as his baseball and his mitt but something told him that he would not have another chance to grab any of this stuff.

"Look, I know it's none of my business but your dad didn't tell you anything?" The Overseer's daughter asked as he shoveled his baseball glove and bat into the bag.

"No. I had no idea what he was planning." Douglas said as he moved over to his drawers. He opened it and began to stuff all his clean vault suits into the bag, taking care to separate the Utility Vault suit from the comfort ones. Not that the Utility was much different in the long run.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm sure he had his reasons. Maybe Jonas was supposed to explain everything to you?" She offered in a small gesture of comfort. "But it doesn't matter. I can help you escape. I have my own plan." Despite the situation, Douglas couldn't help but crack a smile and say teasingly:

"Not another one of your plans, Amata." Douglas joked as he threw his last Vault suit into the duffel bag. The last thing he pulled from the drawer was his pre-war cap, tucking it firmly on his head. Amata ignored his comment and walked over to wait in the door frame.

"Listen. There's a secret tunnel that leads directly from my father's office to the exit. You'll have to hack the computer. Use these to get into his office. It's how I always get in." She handed him some of the bobby pins she had used to put up her hair. Her hair sloped down a little but still held it composure with the remaining three bobby pins left in her hair. Grabbing his baseball bat and throwing his duffel bag over his shoulder, he gave a skeptical look to the Overseer's daughter.

"Wait, you think I should leave the vault?" He questioned. She sighed and shook her head.

"No. But I don't see any other option. My father is on a warpath and there's nowhere else you can go. He would check the empty parts of the vaults first, and he's probably going to turn the entire vault against you." Douglas paused as he thought about this.

"I guess you're right." And though those words came from his mouth, he still didn't like them. The stung his mouth and filled him with a large sense of dread.

As they left the single bedroom apartment, Douglas stopped and grabbed the first aid kit from the wall. If he was really going into the wastes after his father, he doubted he would get through the entire wastes unscathed. His father had always kept the first aid kit fully stocked due to his overcautious nature as a doctor and his early teen years of picking fights with the Tunnel Snakes. He gave Douglas so many lessons on how to properly use the medical equipment, Douglas probably could take over as a doctor. Stuffing the medical kit into his bag, he hurried out and found Amata hugging the wall near the exit. She put a hand to her lips and beckoned him over.

"Officer Kendall is coming." She warned. Douglas peeked out and saw the officer advancing towards his apartment, his police baton out and a determined look on his face. Thankfully as he passed the intersection, a large group of radroaches suddenly swarmed him. The alarms must have woken up the large groups that remained in the abandoned parts of the vaults. Amata and him would run into them from time to time but they were never really hard to deal with in small numbers as the heel of a boot could easily suffice.

"Criminey! More roaches!" He called as he batted the first one out the air with a well- placed swing, the cracking of the exoskeleton echoing around the hall. A plan hit Amata as the roaches forced Officer Kendall to back away from the room, and out of sight from the doorway.

"Okay. I'll try to meet you at the exit. Watch out for the other security." She told him. Then, before Douglas could protest any rash actions, she sprinted out and began to taunt the security officer as he battled the three remained roaches, calling him derogatory names and even insulting his manhood. Kendall stomped one of the roaches and bashed the torso of another. Then, he kicked the last roach against the wall and trained his sights on Amata. She saw the glare he gave her and sprinted away, causing the security officer to chase after her. He cursed Amata for her recklessness and praised her for her quick thinking at the same time, leaving him with the worried thought of if he should tackle Kimball to help Amata or take advantage of the distraction. Then with a final worried thought in her direction, he ran forward and turned in the opposite direction of where his girlfriend had led Officer Kendall. After all, Amata was smart and she could handle herself. He was so focused on his worry that he didn't even pay attention to where he was running and paid for it.

He smashed into Butch, sending both of the teenage boys to the ground. _I don't have time to deal with this. _He quickly stood up and got ready for Butch to angrily berate and swing at him, already planning to run off in a different direction to avoid the matter. However, instead of Butch's normal reaction whenever they bumped into each other, he was met with a face full of hope and panic. "You gotta help me! My mom's in there with the radroaches!" He practically begged as he looked up hopefully towards him. It took a few seconds before Douglas realized that Butch wasn't about to throw a few punches and then he could help but let out a dry laugh at the situation.

"Butch Deloria, the mighty leader of Tunnel Snakes, asking me for help? If only you understood what irony meant Butch. Or if I had a camera, either would work," Douglas said as he held out a hand to help Butch up. "Just get your friends and ambush them on a stairwell." Butch took it and when he was on his feet, his face put on his normal façade and said:

"Yeah, I'm asking you for help. So what?" His face dropped the prideful look and he put a face of shame. "I know you think that you're all high and mighty, but it's my mom. You can't leave her in there with the radroaches."

"Why do you need my help anyway? Afraid of a few roaches?" Douglas asked with growing impatience. It was only a matter of time before another officer stumbled across him and this time, Amata wasn't here to create another quick plan. When Butch just bashfully stared at the ground, Douglas sighed with exasperation. Why the hell was feeling sorry for Butch Deloria of all people? "Alright. I'll help. But I'm doing this for your mom, not you."

"Sure, I don't care why. Just get her out of there!" Butch sprinted off after saying that, leaving Douglas to hastily follow him. When he arrived at the Deloria's apartment, he saw that it was torn apart, with various objects thrown about. A screaming came from the bedroom and Douglas quickly ran in, leaving Butch at the door. The roaches were easy to deal with, the only problem was trying to avoid Ellen Deloria with each swing of the bat. She twisted into the path of his bat more than once and Douglas was forced to adjust his swing and make it smash into the floor. Douglas's requests for her to remain still fell on deaf ears as well.

When all the roaches were nothing but overly large squashed bugs, Ellen Deloria stood up and immediately began searching for the nearest drink, without so much as a nod of thanks in Douglas's direction. Butch ran in when he realized all the roaches were dead, his face full of delight and surprise. "We did it! You're the best friend I've ever had, man!" Douglas was left speechless for a moment as he considered calling Butch out on the use of 'we' but decided against it.

"Friends? What happened to stealing each other's sweetrolls and beating the hell out of each other?" Douglas questioned as he pushed aside Butch and hurried out of the room. He wasted enough time with this side thing anyways and needed to get moving.

"Fine. But damn if I owe you one!" Butch called after him. Douglas ignored him and continued to the move.

* * *

"Thanks Officer Gomez, I always liked you." Douglas thanked holding his bat in one hand and sticking out the other in a friendly gesture, the gooey insides of the radroaches wiped clean on his already dirty jumpsuit. The officer was always the one who seemed to like to do his actual job, instead of brooding about like the Overseer's private army. Gomez gave a light smile as he took it and shook his head with shame.

"It's a real shame it's come to this. I can't believe what they did to Jonas…..Officer Mack was just out of control. But you're a good kid. You didn't do anything to deserve this and I don't envy you having to leave the Vault. Go find your dad, if you can." Gomez told him. As he started to walk away, he stopped and looked back at Douglas. Then he came back and held a 10mm pistol up. "I'm hoping you don't have to use this in here but The Overseer has told the guards that if anyone tries to leave the vault again, to shoot on sight. Please try your best not to find a need for it until you leave the Vault." Gomez sighed sadly. "And kid. Good luck." With that, he placed the pistol into the reluctant teen's hand and ran in the opposite direction.

"Gomez!" Douglas called before he got too far. The security officer turned and looked at him. "I'll tell them I took it from you by force." Gomez smiled thankfully, but Douglas could tell that no matter what happened, he doubted Gomez would remain a security guard long.

With that sad realization at hand, Douglas ran into his dad's office, tucking the pistol into the back of his vault suit. He didn't even want to consider using the thing on anyone in the vault, not even the roaches. The room had been thrown around in what looked like a fit of rage. The desk chair had been thrown across the room and the computer was on floor, the screen cracked and the screen had the lockout screen flashing across, revealing an unsuccessful hacking attempt. Grimacing as he didn't quite know where to start, he took a moment before bending down.

The teenager immediately began to rifle through the random assortment of papers on the floor, looking for any clue on where his dad had gone. When he found nothing but medical forms and requisition forms, Douglas leaned against the wall near his father's framed quote of Revelations 21:6. He felt his eyes beginning to sting as the brief moment of rest brought everything to a fold. His dad, the person that he had looked up to, suddenly abandoned him and the vault for seemingly no reason and left behind nothing as a clue. The Overseer was on a warpath that had already killed one person and was aiming to kill others. He hadn't seen Amata since Officer Kendall chased her off, leaving it to his imagination of what happened to her, most of which were grim scenarios. Just as he was about to break down, a slight glint of metal caught his eye from behind the photo.

He looked behind the frame and pulled it off the wall when he was sure what he saw. It was a safe, one of the older ones with a dial combination. A safe that not even Douglas knew about, despite having been in his father's office as much as any patient. He grabbed the dial and immediately began try to crack the combination. 2-1-6 wasn't the combination, which surprised Douglas. His father would always try to make that his password first, or some variations of Douglas's mother's favorite bible quote. He then tried three variations on which his dad's birth year was which also proved not to be it. He hit the wall in anger, knowing this safe possibly contained the answer to where his dead was going. Then, as his knuckle began to throb painfully from the bone vs. metal impact, he thought of something else. He turned the dial to the numbers 7-13-58, his own birthday. The safe gave a small click click and swung open, revealing a holotape and a bag of….bottle caps. Douglas took them both and shoved them into the duffel bag, promising to listen to the holotape and question his father's odd bottle cap collecting habit he felt the need to hide later.

He sprinted from the office with Andy calling "Hello good sir!" from behind as he left. He didn't stop to acknowledge Andy, although he wasn't sure if he would ever see the Mister Handy robot again. He continued into the Atrium, stopping just before he reached the main room. He peaked in to see who was talking in the room, afraid he might have heard two more guards. Thankfully, it was only Tom Holden and his wife, Mary. Tom was trying to get Mary to follow him as he tried to leave the vault but hardly to any avail. Douglas, always having got along with the Holdens and realizing the couple hadn't been turned by the Overseer, ran into the room and made a beeline straight for the stairs.

There was a crack and something hit the ground at Douglas' feet. He looked at the two guards who were shooting him, recognizing Officer Richards and Officer O'Brian as the two intent on killing him. Their eyes were that of a feral animal's and they had no mercy or reasoning in them. The officers that once had joked with him after a long days of work were now trying to kill him without mercy. Both Douglas and the Holdens ran for cover, in opposite directions. The two officers gave no chase to either, merely remaining at their posts, guns raised. He let a relieved sigh, unsure what he would have done if the two officers had followed him through the broken door, which was held open only by a metal locker. After debating a brief moment over whether or not to kick the locker out of the way, he decided against it. After all, he may need to backtrack later on.

Douglas continued on, smashing through the roaches as he went. As he ran onto the second floor and into the systems room, he could hear Allen Mack shouting: "You! This is all your fault. You and your stupid father! He had to leave and screw things up for everyone! Guards! Guards! Over here!" He did his best to ignore the man but the words haunted him. Was he really responsible for all the deaths that happened since his dad escaped? He was disturbed by the thought that he didn't notice Security Chief Paul Hannon until his police baton connected with the side of Douglas' head. The force sent Douglas against the wall, slamming him painfully against the cold hard metal and causing the room to spin from his point of view. The Security Chief let out a vicious snarl and raised his baton once more. Douglas could do nothing but attempt to block the next blow.

However, surprising both Douglas and Chief Hannon, a form flew out of nowhere, tackling Hannon to the floor and then showering the man in a flurry of punches after viciously ripping the helmet off. Douglas quickly jumped up as his head readjusted, still swimming from the brutal blow from the Security Chief. When everything finally came into focus long enough for Douglas to make out his savior, the first thing he saw….was a black leather jacket with a snake on the back. "Butch, what the hell!?" Douglas growled as the bully stood up from the unconscious form of the Security Chief. Butch scoffed and brushed some dirt off of his leather jacket.

"Some thanks. I just put my ass on the line to help you." Butch replied angrily, pointing an accusing finger at Douglas.

"This is my fault? You just knocked out the Security Chief. Do you have any idea what's going on?" Douglas responded, offended at the ideas of needing Butch Deloria for help and the fact that Butch Deloria actually helping after all the years of torturing him.

"I don't care. I owed you one and now we're even." Butch told him, puffing his chest angrily. Douglas rubbed his head in irritation and walked into the generator room. He didn't need this right now. With everything that was happening, getting into a pissing match with Butch DeLoria was on the bottom of his to-do list. Unfortunately, Butch continued to follow. "What the fuck is going on anyways? Someone said your old man took off and it was his fault for all this shit."

"Butch, please, just go back to your room and hide." Douglas told him, pausing for only a moment to grimace at the dead body of another vault resident. Unfortunately, his poor choice of words ended the idea prematurely, as Butch's chest puffed and he looked challengingly at his old bullying victim at the use of the word hide.

"Hey, Tunnel Snakes don't hide from shit. You think I'm scared of some security guards." Butch announced. Douglas stopped and rubbed the bridge of his nose with irritation. Sometimes, he really questioned Butch's intelligence regarding the things he said. However, as he opened his mouth to retaliate, he heard:

"Be reasonable, Amata. Officer Mack may enjoy this but I certainly don't. Just tell us where your….friend is so we can talk to him." Douglas immediately entered a crouching stance and looked around for the origins of the voice, vaguely aware that Butch Deloria was now mimicking his movements. Slowly, he crawled over to the window of the security office, ever so slightly peeking into the room while keeping himself hidden.

The scene before him was Amata sitting in one of the officer's chairs, one they used when sitting at their desk and doing paperwork. Only this chair had been moved to the middle of the room and placed on the far wall. In front of her, standing in such a way to prevent her from attempting to make a break from it, was her father and Officer Mack. Just looking at the baton, Douglas could see large blotches from blood, which he secretly hoped weren't fresh.

"You know how I feel about him and….and I just wanted to help him. I was worried about him. What does he have to do with all of this anyway? He told me he didn't even know anything about his father leaving!" Amata pleaded with the Overseer. Butch was next to him, watching the scene unfold with an unidentifiable expression on his face. He looked over at Douglas and did a double take.

"You got a gun?" He whispered accusingly at him.

"Not now, Butch." Douglas quickly shushed.

"That's why you need to tell me where he is. So I can talk to him. Nothing more." The Overseer promised, lying through his teeth. Douglas resisted the urge to scoff as he thought about Hannon, who had just attempted to bash his head in or Richards and O'Brian who shot at the sight of him.

"Dude you have a goddamn gun and you've been running through the halls with a baseball bat?" Butch questioned. Not even bothering to acknowledge Butch's words, Douglas watched as Amata looked away from her father in defiance, realizing the lie her father had just told her. The Overseer sighed sadly, placing his face into the palm of his hand and motioning towards the security guard next to him.

"One more time Mack." Mack smiled, a twisted and sadistic smile that made Douglas have a genuine pit of fear in his stomach. One that made him question a man's sanity and one that made him want to run at the sight of it. One that only got more twisted and deranged as he brought the end of a bloody baton across the face of Amata. The hit wasn't hard, probably on orders of the Overseer, but it did have enough force behind it that it caused a resounding crack noise and a yelp of pain that could be heard through the glass. One that had Douglas in the room and connecting his baseball bat with Mack's head before he could even register what was happening himself.

Officer Mack was caught by surprise from the attack, flying towards the floor and sending his weapon skittering across the room. The Overseer was overcome with shock for a brief moment and began to call for the guards, but it just seemed like white noise to Douglas. "Amata." The crying girl looked at Douglas with a mixture of surprise and gratitude. "Go." With that invitation, Amata leapt from her chair and sprinted from the room and down the hall into her father's room. Douglas never left eye contact with the Overseer.

"I hope you're here to turn yourself in, young man. You're already in enough trouble as it is. Don't make things worse for yourself and…..Amata." The Overseer told him, matching his gaze with equal intensity, the last part being a clear threat to his own daughter. The Overseer did glance away for a brief moment before scoffing: "And I should have known you would be involved in this somehow, Deloria."

"You know, of all the things that I have called you over the years, a bad father never came to mind." Douglas growled at him, his knuckles turning white where he gripped the bat. The Overseer's glare hardened at that.

"It's my duty to put work above family everytime." He hissed at Douglas. Mack was beginning to stir, rubbing his head and moaning. "Now, son, you might as well turn yourself in. There's nowhere you can go in this entire vault anymore and you can make this easier on yourself." Douglas paused for a moment as he considered this. Did he really want to leave the vault and did he really want to leave behind everyone he had ever known? Even the idea of leaving behind Butch seemed to leave him sentimental.

"You don't expect him to fall for…." Butch began but stopped when he saw the look on Douglas's face.

"Fine. Let's end this peacefully then." Douglas said, turning the baseball bat and gripping the head so that the Overseer could grab the handle. The Overseer's expression didn't soften but he did nod and hesitantly reached over to grab the bat.

"You can't be serious." Butch was complaining at this sight, shaking his head in disappointment. Douglas didn't pay him mind and moved the handle of the bat into the Overseer's hand. The old man grasped it, before firmly locking his wrist. Then using the element of surprise, pulled Douglas forward and grabbed his wrist in an iron grip, shouting:

"NOW Mack!" Douglas turned his head as Mack leapt to his feet and raised his baton high above his head, the baton clearly aimed at his locked arm. Douglas didn't have the time to pull his arm out of the way, making his eyes widen as he realized that when Mack connected the weapon, his arm would shatter. That's when a deafening crack sounded through the room and a red blossom erupted from Officer Mack's throat. Both Douglas and the Overseer watched in surprise as Mack stumbled, blood beginning to pour from his throat and his choking sounds filled the rooms for a few seconds before he collapsed, dead. Then, both sets of eyes turned towards Butch Deloria, who stood behind Douglas with Officer Gomez's 10mm pistol in his hand and a horrified expression on his face.

Douglas was the first to overcome the shock, gripping the bat and pulling the Overseer forward as fast as he could. Then, using the force of this, sent his fist into the man's jaw. The man stumbled away, holding his jaw as blood pooled in his mouth, Douglas's punch much more fierce that even the owner expected.

"If you ever hurt Amata again, you'll be sorry." The threat was clear and even Douglas was surprised about how much he meant that. Then, without another word to the man holding his jaw in pain, Douglas turned towards Butch and motioned for the bully to follow him. Butch, for once, didn't argue and followed him, his pistol lowered. Once they both were out of the room, Douglas used the bat and slammed it into the door control, forcing the door to activate its locks. Then he sighed.

"Come on Butch, we better keep going."

* * *

**Right, as you all can plainly tell now, even if you haven't before, Butch will be joining the Lone Wanderer. For reasons unknown (for now.) Right, what changes to address in no particular order.**

**1\. I always found it the perfect scenario to kill the Overseer when he attempts to kill you with your own weapons after you surrender. I got more than peeved when Amata yelled at me for killing her father, and not having an option to tell her I attempted to surrender also didn't help. Anywho, that is changed as well.**

**2\. Originally, it was Douglas who killed Security Chief Hannon with a gun. But thinking about the characters, Douglas would more than likely get his first kill in the Wasteland rather than getting it in the Vault (unless you're playing a psychopath.) So, I always found it a little difficult to get through this part of the game where you either kill Mack or let Amata play scapegoat, but it makes sense in game I suppose. But this is a story so this is what happened.**

**3\. I always found Butch's bipolar gratitude and liking of you odd. You guys hate each other for years, then he says your his best friend after saving his mom, then he pratically tries to knife you when you come back. in any case, that won't be a problem anymore.**

**4\. Also, I kept Officer Gomez giving Douglas the gun the same because it made more sense. It seemed to wierd that Amata would give you the gun and advocate violence towards the denizens of the vault. And why, after watching Jonas get beaten, she took the time to swipe the pistol instead of immediately running to help you, wasting what, in reality would have been precious seconds that she needed. **

**Well, in any case, That's all I have to say. Stay tuned for more adventures of the Lone Wanderer and Friends! (Fifties budelabloo sound.)**


	4. Let's Get Away from it All

**Heyo! This is the fourth chapter of the revision that is Into the Wastleland, and so far, I quite happy with what I have done. If I'm not wrong, this is where the original author stopped his postings, so this is also where my own creative juices become the sole writer of this story. But in any case, as to avoid any spoilers, I simply say: Read, Enjoy, Review. **

* * *

Jonas was lying dead on the floor, a small puddle of blood on the floor underneath. His glasses were askew and cracked in the right lens. Blood slowly trickled from his mouth, already coagulating even as it dripped into the ever growing puddle. Douglas stared sadly at the form, tears forming in the corners of his eyes, sitting in the chair that they had probably beaten Jonas to death in. It wasn't necessarily that Jonas was dead that saddened him the most, but it was that he was just left there, without any respect for the man. None of the guards who had merciless beat him or even the Overseer, thought to move his body in a more respectful position or even take from the room. Just left here. To rot.

On the desk behind him was a holodisk and a stimpak, both of which had been taken from Jonas's coat pocket. As much as the act of looting his dead friend's possessions had sickened him, it was the only way that he could think of to find a clue to where his father had been going. Amata had said that Jonas was likely supposed to be the one who told him what happened. He had been right, finding a holotape simply labeled: "Note From Dad." As much as Douglas yearned to grab the holotape now and upload it into his Pip-Boy, listening for clues about where his father was, he resisted the urge. He needed to get somewhere where people weren't trying to kill him before he would dare risk that. Grabbing the two items, he quickly shoved them into his pockets, turning around only when he heard the sliding of Amata's door.

When he had first attempted to check up on Amata, he had found a locked door and his voice was answered by silence with each attempt to ask her if she was okay. Him sitting down had been a mixture for grieving for Jonas and waiting for Amata, unsure of which would end first. But now, Amata erupted from the doorway, a scared look on her face and a 10mm pistol in her hand, though the safety was still on and her finger wasn't on the trigger. "Did you kill my father?" She asked, her voice a mix of so many emotions that Douglas couldn't count them on his fingers. The most prominent one though, was most definitely anger.

"No." He said, looking down at Jonas as he answered. A rage welled inside him, though he did his best to quell it. Rage was not an option right now. "I locked him in the security office. Which is more mercy than he actually deserves right now." Amata calmed down a little, but her emotional turmoil didn't seem to end. She dropped the weapon and sat down in the doorway, leaning against it.

"I don't even know how to feel about that. A part of me wishes you did do it, but another part of me knows that if you had, I would never be able to forgive you. And then another part of me, wants me to do it myself." She confided, staring at the pistol. "I always thought my dad was this strict man who cared more about work than family on the outside, but deep down, he actually….." She choked up a little at the last part, shaking her head free of tears before continuing. But…I never thought he'd be capable of this."

"I know what you mean. He had Jonas beat to death, sent guards to kill me and making them ignore the swarm of roaches that are currently overrunning the vault, tortured his own daughter and even attempted to break my arm after I surrendered. Not even I could have seen this side to him and I've been against him since my teen years." Douglas agreed, sympathizing with her. He didn't tack on the fact he never thought his own father would one day leave without warning, feeling that it would sound like he was attempting to compete who had the crappiest day. He stood up and walked over to her, sitting near her. And then they sat in silence.

"Well, if you two aren't going to bone, we might want to get out of here." Butch announced from where he was by the door, causing Douglas to jump. The situation had caused him to forget the bully was still with them, following Douglas despite his numerous attempts to get the bully to leave. Amata glared at Butch angrily, but didn't say anything and while Douglas still wanted to berate Butch for being insensitive, he knew that the bully was right.

Reaching into his pocket and grabbing the bobby pins Amata had given him earlier, he held them out towards her with an open palm. "Mind showing me how these work. I haven't got a clue." He asked, smiling weakly at her. She nodded silently, taking the pins from his hand and standing up. Douglas followed, pausing only to grab the gun that she had set on the floor, and then turning back as Amata produced a small screwdriver from one of her pockets. Butch sighed and pushed himself off the wall, walking over to where the two were standing.

They didn't stand around awkwardly for long, watching Amata as she worked the door, before the door gave a satisfying click and quickly slid open. Then, without a single word to each other, they all filed into the room. The room was large, at least for an office for a single person, but very plain. In the middle of the room, was a large U-like desk that took up most of the space in the room, small amounts of paperwork on the desk. A pair of computers sat behind that, with video monitors just above that watched the entire vault. He could see the dead body of Grandma Taylor in one of them, surrounded by the roaches he had killed in a vengeance for the old woman. Four lockers stood off to the right, seemingly out of place for place that looked so dedicated to supervisory duties. A single window, in a circle and large enough that Douglas was sure two people could have squeezed through it at once should it break, was on the left wall, granting him a view of the Artium.

Amata stayed near the door, closing and locking it the moment all three were in the room. Douglas quickly made his way to the computer and began to try to guess the Overseer's passwords. Butch stared at the room for a few moments, before walking over to the lockers and beginning to root through them. "Well, we ain't got to worry about bullets anymore." Butch announced after a few moments, walking over to Douglas and setting down four large boxes that jingled as the brass casings clanged together.

"Just put them in here." Douglas said, handing the duffel bag to Butch. Butch scoffed and stepped back.

"I'm not your bitch." He confronted, stepping away. Douglas slammed his hands on the computer's sides and turned towards Butch.

"Really Butch, you still want to pull adolescent crap like that in the situation. It doesn't matter who the hell puts that damn ammo in the bag, so long as it gets in the damn bag." Douglas told him, grabbing the duffel and almost throwing it at Butch. Butch however, caught it and slammed it back down on the table, staring defiantly at Douglas. However, it was Amata who broke the cycle before it could start, walking over and shoving the boxes into the duffel bag with obvious annoyance.

"There. Now both of you stop arguing and focus on getting out of here." Amata yelled at them, sending both of them a glare that caused their next words to get clogged in their throat. Douglas quickly turned back towards the computer and finished hacking the computer. It wasn't ever hard to hack a computer in the vault, all he had to do was plug in an algorithm that told him the amount of letters in the password and what letters matched from words that appeared most frequently on the computer, one of course, being the password. On any other day, the fact that his password was "Amata" might have been a sign that he really did care for his daughter despite his coldness, but today? It almost seemed like an insult.

"So much for 'We're born in the vault and die in the Vault.'" Douglas scoffed as he read the first entry in the computer. He was currently reading an entry in which the Vault had been opened and scouting teams that had been sent out. Knowing he didn't have the time to read through the entire document without risking their safety, Douglas grabbed the download cable from his Pip-Boy and downloaded the data for later reference. After the information was transferred from the computer, Douglas quickly logged out of the reports and hit the option that would open the secret tunnel. For a brief moment nothing happened, the three of them looking around, not knowing where the tunnel would open up, only to jump with the desk shook.

They watched as four metal beams slowly lifted the Overseer's desk from the floor, revealing a dark and poorly light staircase that led downwards. Down the stairs, the skittering of radroaches could be heard, alerting all three of them to the potential threat in entering. "So…..who goes first?" Douglas asked, looking into the tunnel. Despite the fact he never feared radroaches, something about going into the tunnel had a finality to it, something he didn't want to face just yet. Butch never answered the question, his face noticeably paling at the sound of the radroaches. This of course, left Amata, who looked at the two before shaking her head and entering. This snapped Douglas back to it and he followed her in, with Butch tentively following.

"I'll…..uh….stay back here and keep anyone from jumping us." Butch excused himself when Amata looked at him for going so slow. Her eyes narrowed as she suspected there was more to it, but when neither Butch nor Douglas spilled the beans, she didn't interrogate him. However, she did take advantage of the fact that Butch was no longer right beside.

"Right, do I need to ask?" She wondered, motioning towards Butch with her eyes. She tried to say it low enough so that Butch couldn't hear her, something that was impossible due to the narrow tunnel they were in.

"I saved his mom from radroaches and he won't stop following me. He's like that radroach you feed once because you feel bad for it and it keeps coming back for more." Douglas told her. She grimaced at that, unsure how to directly feel that her boyfriend wasn't trying harder to get rid of him. They paused as a roach scuttled up to them, attempting to attack them only to meet the heel of Douglas's boot and become nothing more than a dead carcass.

"That doesn't change the fact that he tortured us from pre-teen to late teens." Amata reminded.

"Look, my friends are running low in the vault right now. If Butch Deloria wants to help me out of a situation, I think this would the best time to cash that in." Douglas pointed out. Amata gritted her teeth as he made a good point, but still didn't feel comfortable as Butch trailed behind them. But nothing more was said on the subject.

Douglas emerged into the entrance of the vault, pausing as the sight of the giant cog-like door with the large and yellow 101 painted in the middle. For the first time in nineteen years, he was seeing the only entrance and exit to Vault 101. Despite the fact it was only twice as tall as him, it stood over him like a skyscraper. It became even more daunting when he thought about the wasteland that it kept out, the one he was about to enter. He placed a hand on the door, almost pulling back at how cold the thick steel was, and surprised by how he now stood in front of the door.

"My father changed the password." Amata said as she attempted to open the vault but received a shrill beep in return. "Don't worry though, I know how to change the password again. This wasn't really intended to keep people in as much as it was to keep people out." Douglas stepped away from the metal cog and walked over to where Amata was quickly getting through the meager defense her father had set up. It wasn't long before a shrill alarm sounded, causing all three of them to flinch. The door mechanism, which looked suspiciously like a giant drill, moved into place and began to pull the cog out of the place.  
"In here! Someone trying to escape! Someone get a key!" A voice yelled from the other side of the known entrance to this area. Butch jumped at the chance and quickly shoved a metal pipe into the hinges, obviously hoping to slow them down. Amata on the other hand, let out a wide smile at the sight of the door moving, a smile that contradicted with the red mark across her face.

"We did it! We opened the door! My God, I almost didn't believe it was possible!" She announced happily.

"Couldn't have done it without your help." He thanked her as he watched the door open. He wasn't so like-minded about the vault door opening, watching it with a mix of emotions. Fear, Anger, Adventurous, Sadness, guilt, cowardice. And that was just the tip of the iceberg.

"Oh, so I guess I'm just chopped liver in this occasion." Butch snidely commented.

"Well, since I never liked the liver even though it's good for my health, yeah. That's just about right." Douglas replied without looking back. He didn't need to turn around to know Butch was glaring at him for the metaphor.

"You know, you could have. If anyone can survive out there, it's you." Amata told him, watching as the cog let out an awful screech as it pulled free. There was a bang on the door behind them as the guards attempted to get through the door but was stopped by Butch's crude doorstop.

"No, I don't think I could have. Why don't you come with me Amata?" He offered towards her as the cog showed a narrow, natural tunnel that led to a wooden door. Amata hesitated, her eyes never looking away from the tunnel. Butch scoffed at that, stepping away from the door and walking over to where the door controls are, looking into the tunnel with a sense of longing in his eyes.

"It's tempting but…" She looked away from the tunnel and at Douglas for the last part. "My place is here. The Vault needs me more than you do. I'm the only one who has a chance to talk some sense into my father. God knows he's not going to be happy about this." She motioned towards the door at the last part.

"Amata, I'm not quite sure your father is the type of guy you reason with." Douglas told her. He held back the snide comment that the last time she had tried to talk some sense into her father was evident on her face right now.

"I have to try. What my father did here today is unforgivable, but I can't just say he's a lost cause." She told him, wrapping him in a hug. He returned it instinctually but didn't know what to say in return. "But when you catch up to your father, tell him I'm sorry. For…..you know, Jonas, and my father, and everything." She stopped talking for a moment, as if thinking of what next to say before letting go and saying: "Good-bye." She leaned forward and placed her lips on his in what would be their parting kiss…..just as the metal pipe snapped and gave way to six security guards.

They rushed in, 10mm pistols at the ready and bloodshed in their eyes. The trio reacted in different way. Butch leapt over the railing and got behind Douglas as they did this, hands in the air as the guns trained on him as well. Douglas took a step back and got ready to run the moment one of them pulled the trigger. And Amata dove in front of the two, her hands held out to shield Douglas from the wrath of the guard. "Surrender Darius, Deloria! I will have you shot." Hannon announced in the group, being the guard in the middle. A large welt was on the side of his head from where Butch had landed the blow that had knocked him out.

"Go Douglas, I'll keep them from firing." Amata whispered, positioning herself that she would be in the line of fire for all six security guards. The guards hesitated upon seeing this, turning towards the security chief for confirmation. Hannon just glared angrily at the three before him, his hand in the air as he prepared to give the signal.

"As sold as a plan that is Amata, I have a feeling that isn't going to work out so well." Douglas told her as he saw the guards get over their fear of harming the Overseer's daughter rather quickly.

"Yeah, I think running would be a good idea." Butch muttered to them. Hannon's glare steeled and Douglas knew what that meant. Without waiting for Amata to reply in favor, he grabbed her by the arm and sprinted for the exit, Butch leading the way. Just as she started her startled questioning, a hail of bullets rained down upon them. The bullets collided into the rocks, ricocheting off the walls and shaving precious hair from their heads in near misses. One of the bullets grazed his arms, but through the adrenaline and determination to get to safety, he barely registered the pain. He just needed to reach the doorway.

* * *

Frank sat, with her back against the car, staring at the rising sun of tomorrow. In one of her hands, was a combat knife that she twirled between her fingers without much thought. The blade pressured into skin from time to time, threatening to break it and draw blood but it never delivered on the promise. In the other hand, she held a simple silver flask. Despite the obvious age this must be, the metal of the flask was still gleaming in the dawn, as if it had been fresh off the service line that doesn't exist anymore. Instead, the only indication that it was old was a large dent on the bottom right corner. Sloshing inside was a simple whiskey that Frank had found not but a day before, with half of the drink already washed out of her system.

She paused as she thought she heard the crunching of gravel underneath shoes, as if someone was attempting to sneak up on her. Moving her assault rifle a bit closer, she tensed up and prepared for someone to turn the corner of her car any second. She hoped that she could get to Megaton before getting into another fight, her armor from before nothing but scraps since her fight with the slaver and a flamethrower. Right now, she was merely wearing a slightly dirty turtleneck sweater that was dark grey in color, with one sleeve that was missing a cuff. Her pants were nothing more than a pair of old jeans that were ripped in the knees from their constant usage and had dark brown stains on the legs from the time she had to wade through inch thick mud. The black combat boots was the only part of her original outfit that had survived until this point, a constant reminder of her need of new armor.

The crunching got closer and Frank grabbed the hilt of her combat knife, watching the side from where the crunch was coming from. It got closer with each passing second and the size was definitely that of something that could pose a threat. She capped her flask and ever so gently set it down next to her, and then using the opportunity to get into a stab ready position. She wondered if those assholes from Paradise Falls had followed her, which meant that using the combat knife was a bad idea. Still, she knew that at this point, the cocking of a gun would give away her position if they didn't already know where she is, getting rid of her surprise advantage. So, she silently waited until the crunching was close enough, before leaping out and holding her knife high.

The Raider shouted in surprise, firing off a single shot from a .32 pistol before the knife plunged into his chest. The bullet didn't even graze her, the advantage of surprise and a less experienced opponent in her favor. The Raider fell in a heap, the knife hitting him perfectly in the heart, leaving him in the ground, bleeding out. She took a deep breath and signed in relief. It was just a Raider scout. And if there was one thing that someone could say about the raiders of the capital wasteland beyond sadistic, cruel, crazy and plain villainous was that they were the very definition of disorganized. Chances were, this was just a scout, for a much smaller group looking to avoid the muties or Regulators.

Bending down, she quickly took his weapon, opening the revolving barrel to see it had four more bullets. Deciding any gun is at least worth the caps it would fetch at the nearest town, she holstered the weapon on her waist, sticking it between the waistband of her pants and underwear. Then she pulled any bottlecaps that he had on him off, which was only a measly three. Hardly worth looting the bastard. She didn't bother with the armor, knowing that just by thinking about donning it would probably get her shot from just about anyone in the wasteland. The other stuff she found on the man was a random playing card, a broken pool cue and a thing of jet.

She stopped and looked at the jet, her mind disgusted with the very existence of the drug. Temptation struck her and she almost crushed the thing her hands in anger. But, with a sigh of defeat, she pocketed the jet and finished with her looting job by yanking the knife out of the man's chest. Grabbing her flask and her assault rifle, she looked towards her destination. If that really was a Raider scout, the rest would be along soon and she didn't want to waste the ammo. Underneath her breath, she silently began to sing:

_You must remember this  
A kiss is still a kiss  
A sigh is still (just) a sigh  
The fundamental things apply  
As time goes by_

_And when two lovers woo_  
_They still say: I love you_  
_On that you can rely_  
_No matter what the future brings_  
_As time goes by_

_Moonlight and love songs - never out of date_  
_Hearts full of passion - jealousy and hate_  
_Woman needs man - and man must have his mate_  
_That no one can deny_

_It's still the same old story_  
_A fight for love and glory_  
_A case of do or die_  
_The world will always welcome lovers_  
_As time goes by_

* * *

**Right, so I changed the Frank introduction as I felt it was too heavy handed in introducing the fact that she hated slavers and slavers hated her. For the most part, I am keeping her simply because I agree with the original author. however I am putting her in a different role than before. There were hardly any free slaves that actually were worth their grits in the wasteland. I too had problems with the Hannibal quest, as I eventually had to just have me and Fawkes clear the thing out beforehand because they all kept dying on me. But in any case, that's really all there is to this chapter. Until next time. **


	5. Begin the Beguine

**Heyo! I'm here with another update for the fine folks of fanfiction. Nothing much to say about this before the chapter starts so Read, Enjoy, Review. **

The bullets stopped flying the moment they reached the door, the guards either having run out of ammo or deciding that it was no longer worth the trouble. Their aim was poor as none of them even landed a direct hit, leaving most untouched beyond a few nicks and grazes. Still, they continued running until they were out the door and had to stop due to the blinding light that assaulted their eyes. Douglas quickly shaded his vision with his forearm, waiting for his eyes to adjust to his bright surroundings. It was much like when someone turned the lights one too fast in a single room, but only this time, when the eyes finally did adjust, it wasn't a surprise birthday party or room full of people that greeted their newly adjusted eyes. It was the wasteland.

Before them, sprawled out through the lands, lay the devastated wastes of their country. Grey murky clouds covered the sky, though did nothing to stop the harsh sunlight that still hurt the three Vault Dweller's retinas. In front of them was a sheer drop accompanied by a narrow walkway that would lead them down. Crumbled rocks and gray, colorless dirt was the only thing that they could see from here. "Well….shit." Butch finally said as they all stood there.

"Yeah, that's about the jist of it." Douglas agreed with a nod. Amata didn't respond to either of their comments, Douglas unsure what she was more upset about. The fact that they were currently in the wasteland many of them had spent their childhoods hearing about how cruel and inhabitable it was. Or that fact that her father went on a murderous rampage and her father's men just tried to kill her, without a morsel of regret. Douglas reached over and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, in a small attempt to comfort her and she took a few steps to be closer to him as she accepted the small gesture.

"Hey, this damn thing isn't even ticking." Butch finally announced, breaking the sad silence that had fallen over them as he tapped his Pip-Boy. This, of course, snapped both Amata and Douglas out of their thoughts and back to the current situation.

"Well, radiation has a half-life and it's been centuries since the bombs fell. I guess it would be worst case scenario if we were to run into a radiation hotspot." Douglas responded as he looked around, guessing Butch meant the Geiger counter. In fact, thinking about it, all he saw was a wasteland. No giant nuclear bombs lodged in the ground, no rocks glowing due to exposure to radiation, no irradiated monsters already attempting to swarm them. He stopped for a moment and then silently hoped he didn't jinx himself.

"So…..what now?" Amata finally asked. Her voice was low and sounded cracked. A voice that made Douglas and Butch look at each other, almost passing a look of worry before old feelings got in the way and both looks turned to glares. Sighing, Douglas reached into his pockets and pulled out the holotape that he had found on Jonas.

"I suppose we can start with this." Douglas said, holding the holotape up.

"What the hell is that?" Butch questioned, looking as if he just decided against making a grab for it. Douglas shrugged before typing in a command that would make his Pip-Boy upload the contents of the holotape onto its computer. After waiting a short few seconds, in which Amata chose to look at the wooden door that they had come through longingly and Butch tapped his foot impatiently. The moment the Pip-Boy popped up a message that announced the message had successfully been uploaded onto the wrist sized computer, Douglas quickly hit play.

"Hold on, Jonas. I need to record this." His dad's voice immediately sprung from the speakers of the Pip-boy. Butch and Amata both stopped their individual activities and looked down at the words, probably hoping to glean some information from it as well. "I….I don't really know how to tell you this. I hope you'll understand but I know you might be angry. I thought about it for a long time, but, in the end, I decided it was best for you not to know. So many things could have gone wrong. And there's really no telling how the Overseer will react."

"He'll become a madman, that's how." Butch scoffed. Douglas found himself agreeing with Butch, as unclean as it made him feel. His father may not have guessed that the Overseer would go on a rampage, but he had to know Douglas would be the first on the Overseer's list when this got out.

"If you're listening to this, then obviously already know that I'm gone. It was something I needed to do. You're an adult now. You're ready to be on your own. Maybe one day, things will change and we'll be able to see each other again. I can't tell you why I left or where I'm going, I don't want you to follow me." The message continued.

"Well, that's fucking great. Our one option and it doesn't even have a goddamn clue." Butch growled in anger, stomping away from the Pip-Boy. Out of anger, Butch began to kick the ground, as if he could somehow punish the Earth for what happened to them. Douglas ignored the complaints of the bully and held the Pip-Boy closer, desperately clinging to hear what his dad was going to tell him.

"God knows life in the Vault isn't perfect but at least you'll be safe. Just knowing that will be enough to keep me going." His dad's prerecorded voice told him. A loud clang distracted Douglas from what Jonas said in the clip to interrupt his father, forcing Douglas to look up to see Butch angrily hurling large rocks into the distance, letting out a shout of fury each time a rock left his hand. Amata nodded towards him, giving him the silent message that she will handle it before walking over to where Butch is and angrily began reprimanding for making so much noise. "Okay, go ahead. Goodbye. I love you." The message gave a small click as it ended.

Was that really the good-bye he left him? A simple recorded message that said it was for the best? Douglas gritted his teeth as he was unsure what to feel. Angry, that his father had abandoned him in the vault. Sad, that his father did not trust him enough or didn't want him to come with him into the Wasteland. Confusion about whether he should even attempt to go after his father at this point or just do his best to get back into the Vault. Just as the world seemed to land on his shoulders, Douglas remembered the other holotape that he had found in the safe his father had. Maybe this one had more information. His dad's voice was the one that made up this recording, but it sounded younger.

"Well, here we are. Nestled all safe and snug inside Vault 101. It's so cold down here. Colder still with Catherine gone…." His dad trailed off. Butch and Amata both stopped their argument, and looked at Douglas as he continued to play this recording. "Oh Catherine…I so wish you were here with me. How the hell am I supposed to do this by myself? Live down in this hole….take care of our child? But this is our life now, so I guess I'd better get used to it. The Overseer down here is an overbearing bully, but I've dealt with worse."

"He must of recorded this after my mom's death." Douglas stated as he lowered his arm and letting out a sigh of sadness. Amata stepped forward and placed a comforting hand of comfort on his shoulder, opening her mouth as if to speak some word of comfort. However, Butch's voice sounded first.

"Big fucking deal. It doesn't help us either." Butch complained, throwing his hands up in obvious anger at the situation. Amata rounded on him, her gaze fierce.

"God Butch, you are such an asshole. Can you think of something other than yourself for a moment?" Amata snapped at him, causing Butch to act offended in a mocking way. Douglas quickly headed off the fight before it got too big, deciding that now was not the time to duke it out.

"As much as I hate to admit it, Butch is right." Douglas told Amata , standing up. "As sentimental as these are, they don't help us right now." Amata looked at Douglas as if he had gone nuts. "That being said, Butch, you're still an asshole. Now look, I was reading about this town that's near the vault. Something called Megaton. I can't say for sure, but I think this is the best place to start. Maybe we'll get lucky and my dad will have passed through there."

"Yeah, that's probably the best idea." Amata agreed with Douglas, stepping away from Butch and walking over to him. Taking each other's hands, they both looked at Butch. Butch crossed his arm and rolled his eyes.

"Man, whatever. It's not like I can go back, can I?" Butch finally said after a few seconds of silence, motioning towards the Vault door as he said so. Douglas felt Amata twinge as if that was a direct insult towards her but when he glanced at her, she was holding face. "What the hell kind of name is Megaton anyways?" Both Douglas and Amata ignored his griping, both turning and walking towards the edge of the cliff and were both equally surprised.

Below them were the ruins of a small town, possibly only a few blocks big. Of the buildings that stood, only one seemed to still be capable of living, with the others nothing more than husks that imitated the former glory they once held. Rubble filled the streets, which were like patchwork, all remaining pieces cracked and barely identifiable. But still, the sight was aweing, even enough that Butch stopped and admired the view in silence. Douglas couldn't quite identify why. His whole life had just been upturned and any visions he had for the future had been destroyed, yet here he was, in awe of the wasteland that he had been told was so dangerous.

"Haha! Freedom!" Butch suddenly yelled, throwing his hands into the air. Douglas stopped and looked at him, ready to tell him off for making such a large amount of noise and possibly calling deadly mutants to attack them. But he stopped, the words catching in his throat as he realized Butch was right. Freedom. For once, there was no ceiling over his head, just an endless void that continued forever. Before him, there was no walls or doors, nothing that restricted him. He could walk as long as he wanted and never have to stopped because he reached the edge of the vault or because the area had a broken door. The very idea of just having that ability was…freeing. Douglas found himself smiling at the very idea, causing Amata to give him another weird look. But this time, he didn't even feel like explaining.

* * *

Frank paused as the voice echoed off in the distance, someone that was clearly yelling. What kind of idiot announced their presence to every Raider and slaver within the area? Shaking her head and content to let the idiots die by their own volition, she continued onwards, looking towards the twisted walls of scrap metal as she contemplated what to do once she got past the Deputy robot out front. She always knew that the Protectron was always to lure Raiders into a false sense of bravado when they saw Megaton, with the real danger and protection Megaton offered was the very accurate sniper on the wall. Any Raider who got remotely close to the town receive a bullet straight to the head and was left there as a future warning.

"Howdy, partner." The robot greeted as she got near. The voice was stunted and slow, the voice processor not even remotely sounding human like the more advanced models. Ignoring the robot, she pushed her way past and was about to enter the town, only to come face to face with someone she had never seen in Megaton before. He was an older lookiing gentleman, but not so old that he looked as though he was going to break at the next strong wind. Perhaps the most interesting thing about this man was the fact that he was wearing a Vault suit, underneath a rather dirty Doctor's jacket. At his hip, was a .32 caliber pistol, whose hammer was clearly jammed even though the weapon looked freshly bought.

"Ah, sorry." He apologized upon realizing he had unintentionally blocked her path. She wasn't sure why she asked, but something made her curious.

"Are you from the Vault?" She asked, not continuing on her path. The man steeled up for a moment, as if the question was poking a stick at a dark past, looking her over before finally answering.

"I suppose so. But I'm not there anymore, so I'd rather not dwell on the subject." He stated. Frank shrugged and motioned towards his pistol.

"Well, I think I should let you know that you're not going to get very far with that jumpsuit and a broken pistol." She shrugged. He paused, then quickly grabbed the weapon from his belt and looked at the weapon. Looking over it, it seemed that he just realized that the weapon's hammer was currently jammed and would offer him nothing but an intimidation factor towards anyone who knew nothing about small firearms. Which was anyone in the wasteland that was still alive.

"Damn, I should have known better than to trust Moriarty." He grumbled as he tried to quickly figure out what was wrong with it. As he talked, he began to walk out of the town, mumbling to himself. Frank stopped, cursing herself lightly as she wondered why she was taking an interest in this man before turning around and following him.

"Here, give me that." She said as she caught up to the man, not waiting for his response before snatching the pistol away from him. He jumped in surprise, but when she didn't proceed to try and beat him over the head with it, he eventually calmed down. "Look, it's nothing serious. It's just jammed at the mainspring. It's an easy fix. You say you bought this from Moriarty?"

"Yeah, I visited him because I needed some information. I didn't have a lot of time to spare, so I bought most of this stuff from him." He informed her, shrugging at the pack that was around his shoulder that was likely filled from food. She nodded, before removing the .32 pistol she had taken from the Raider and took out a part that she needed. The pistol was never worth enough to really hang onto anyways. After removing the part she needed and making the looted pistol worthless, she tossed it to the side.

"Bad choice. That asshole waters down his whiskey just so he can make more money. My father used to say that you should never trust a man who waters down whiskey." Frank said as she finished up the job. "What can I call you?" She finally asked, handing the man back his pistol. The man took the pistol and tested it, making sure that she didn't further sabotage his gun, before finally answering.

"James." He told her, offering a hand as they stopped. They were currently past the hill that was near Megaton, just out of sight of everyone who was currently in town with the sole exception of the sniper. She heard a couple shots from the entrance, but sure it was nothing more than a mutated insect that wandered by the town.

"Frank Sinatra." She told him as he took her hand. He raised a single eyebrow at the name, to which Frank smiled. At least she finally met someone who actually knew who the man was rather than people who would simply say Frank was an odd name for a girl. "Where are you headed James?"

"Galaxy News." He told her. Frank chuckled for a moment before she realized that the man before her was completely serious to which she responded with an obviously condescending shake of the head.

"Seriously? GNR. Middle of the D.C. ruins, Galaxy News?" She asked, pointed towards the massive ruined city that was visible from where they were standing. James nodded, as if this was a normal every day venture for someone fresh out of an underground hole. "With that peashooter? You might as well just take a stick with you, it'll have the same effect. You'll just piss the muties off before they kill you."

"Look, I know that D.C. is dangerous, but I know how to get around that. I'm only taking this in case I run into some ghouls. I plan on avoiding super mutants at any cost." James told her, unfazed by her obvious lack of faith at his survival odds. She just scoffed and shook her head.

"That's a stupid plan. I mean, unless you're packing an entire stash of stealth boys up your jumpsuit, you're going to get spotted by something. And then you have nothing to defend yourself but a damn peashooter." Frank told him. He simply shrugged and looked at her as if he had all the confidence in the world in his abilities.

"I don't have any other options, do I? I barely had enough caps to get what I got." James told her, looking slightly distressed as someone pointed out the obvious hole in his plan. Frank sighed and shook her head, not believing that she was going to allow herself to be conned into this. If only she wasn't so sure the man would end up on the bad end of a supermutant gun or a slave collar, she would feel completely fine telling the man no. But, being the believer of karma that she was, she decided that she could allow herself to do that.

"Tell you what. If you promise to buy me a new set of armor at the next town we're at, I'll get you through DC with your head intact." Frank told him, holding out her hand. James paused for a moment, unsure why Frank was offering this deal to him. In all his experiences in the wasteland, most people who offered something so easily normally had a secret agenda. But seeing as he had no other options, he reluctant took her hand.

"Deal."

* * *

**So Initially, Frank was supposed to be like the mentor of the escaped 101 residents and this interaction with James was supposed to be a one-time thing. But, thinking about it, it actually seemed like an interesting story line to develop instead of tacking her onto Douglas's. IN any case, this will be the new place for Frank. **

**However, as I really really like making OCs, I probably will include another to take the place of Frank as mentor to these kids. That way I can explain the sudden ability to survive in the hellish wasteland that is the D.C. ruins. In any case, I think most of this is self-explanatory or I shouldn't explain for the sake of the story, so I will see you all another day. **


	6. I Can't Get Started

**Heyo! Sorry about the late post, I would have posted about two days earlier but I've been dealing with the flu for a week now. Still kind of dealing with the aftermath, so sorry if I'm not as witty as I should be. But anyways, this is a Chapter that focuses on the trio and introduces a new OC. Read, Enjoy, Review.**

* * *

Valentina Velazquez let out a small breath as she finally emerged from beneath the beer bottle. The ghoul across the counter gave her a worried look as she dropped the beer bottle, paying it no mind as the bottle rolled across the bar as she waved for another bottle. The woman wasn't drunk yet, her alcohol tolerance clearly beyond the three bottles she had already downed, but the ghoul knew that having an upset drunk woman with a gun was not a good idea. Still, knowing that his boss would have his head if he didn't sell as much as he could, he grimaced and set a bottle on the counter within her reach. Quickly, Valentina grabbed the bottle and set another handful of caps on the table.

Valentina paused as she stared at the contents of the open bottle, aware that the liquid was much more brown than normal, clearly watered down by the owner of the bar. Setting the beer down on the counter with a defeated sigh, she ran her left hand over the stubble on the right side of her head. Her pinky could just feel the fringes of her mohawk, giving her a slight tickling sensation on the edge of her fingertips. She rubbed her hand on her rough leather pants, replacing the tickle with that irritation, matching her mood better. The bullets of her bandoleer belt jingled as she did this, drawing the eyes of the irritable man with the assault rifle on his back who had been eyeing her as if she would suddenly start shooting everyone since she had first walked in.

The eyes of the bar were drawn to the door as it opened once more, giving way to a new patron that only Valentina didn't observe. Behind her, she heard a small cough of disgust from the owner at the horrible stench of the bar, a hearty mixture of what was likely urine, alcohol and the remains of those patrons who made the mistake of pulling a gun on the others. Whoever came in remained at the door for a good few minutes, mostly likely soaking in the sights of the bar around them. Whether it be the mop-headed ginger that was currently leaning on the counter of the bar in the most seductive way possible who ever so slightly waved at the new arrival or the ghoul who had just recently taken to beating the radio in a vain attempt to get his favorite station working again.

"Come on, you piece of junk. Every day it's the same damn thing." The ghoul behind the counter growled as his fist hit the radio, providing a dull thudding sound. Valentina almost flinched as if she could hear the various wires and ports coming loose within the radio, for a brief moment thinking that she would inevitably be the one to have to fix it. Then, realizing what she had just thought, she felt a wave of grief fall over her and she grabbed the beer again.

"I told you Gob, it's not the radio. It's Galaxy News. The signal has been shit lately." The ginger replied, lighting up a cigarette as she spoke. She stood up from where she was leaning, almost with practiced grace as her hand found her hip and she stood in a way that made her features seem exaggerated. Gob ignored her, continuing to pound on the radio, and growling angrily as his attempts had the same result as before. Shaking her head, the ginger lit up a cigarette as fluidly walked over to where her normal post was, in plain sight of the bar, drawing the attention of the male and a few of the female patrons.

"Hey smoothskin, do you need something? A drink, maybe? Anything? Anything at all?" Gob suddenly spoke, jumping in fear and taking a step back as if expecting the newcomer to start swinging at the ghoul. Valentina took a glance at the newcomer in the bar, scoffing as she saw who it was. It was a young fellow wearing a vault suit, one equivalent to pristine and fresh within the wasteland, barely a few spots of dirt on them. On his back was a duffel bag with the same symbol as that on the back of his jumpsuit, that jingled with the tell-tale signs of caps and bullets, the most important commodities of the wastes. But perhaps the most notable thing about this kid was the simple 10mm pistol that hung at his hip, in a simple holster that looked ready to break at the slightest hint of stress.

"Um,….give me a moment to think." The kid said, clearly holding back surprise and horror in his voice as he spoke. Valentina set her beer down as she noticed the way the kid stared at Gob, as if he had never seen a ghoul before.

"Wait, you're not going to hit me? Yell at me? Not even berate me a little bit?" Gob responded, clearly unsure if this niceness was simply a façade or not. The kid seemed to be surprised that he would suggest a thing before clearing his throat and hesitantly stating:  
"Um, I hadn't planned on it?" What remained of Gob's face formed into a small smile, which was an odd expression on a ghoul's face as the rotting skin made it seem as if he was an animated corpse.

"Well now, that's a surprise. I'm used to everyone smoothskin asshole in this town giving me shit just because I look like a corpse. I'm glad to see there are a few worthwhile people out there still." Gob told him, crossed his arms as he spoke. "So, what do you want?" The kid paused, looking back towards the door as if looking for confirmation of something. Valentina followed his gaze, seeing a girl standing by the door, wearing the same type of clothing and having the same aura of cleanliness about her. She was still staring wide-eyed at Gob, as if she had never seen anything more terrifying in the entire world. Valentina chuckled and silently wondered how the girl would look when she discovered the muties that inhabit most of DC.

"Um, actually I have a question." The kid asked, turning back towards the ghoul when the girl at the door didn't give him any response. "Have you seen my dad come through here perhaps? Middle-aged, looks like an older me, wears a pip-boy like mine?" The kid gestured to each feature as he described the man. Valentina vaguely remembered the man who came in that matched that description, speaking with Moriarty in the back room about something he didn't want the whole bar to know.

"Yeah, I do remember a guy like that. Honestly, I usually keep my head down. I tend to get smacked around if I look other customers in the eyes. But talk to Moriarty, he'll know more." The ghoul motioned to the door behind the counter, the room where the owner of the bar tends to hang out while his customers spend their hard earned caps of the swill he served. The kid nodded, sitting down in the barstool next to Valentina, ever so slightly nudging the beer bottles that she had allowed to roll to that side away from him. Valentina was still watching him, unsure what to make of this kid. He turned towards the girl in the front, and with his eyes, motioned towards the seat that was next to him. Hesitantly, with a glance at all the patrons at least once, the girl timidly stepped forward and took the seat, keeping her legs close together and her hands crossed in nervousness.

"Um, what do you have?" The kid asked once she was next to him. Gob chuckled, shaking his head.

"Honestly? Shit and Swill." Gob informed. "The only thing that Morairty hasn't watered down is the water but damned if he hasn't tried." The last part was said low, enough so that even Valentina had to strain to hear it.

"Uh, then just some water then." He said in response. Valentina shook her head and went back to her own beer, deciding not to comment on the kid's lack of an alcoholic taste. Judging from his appearance, he hasn't had a drink in his entire life. Gob nodded, reaching underneath the bar and producing two bottles of water, setting them in front of the newest patrons before stepping away from them. They both eyed the water with a slight hint of disgust, as they watched the water, with a slightly greenish tint to it, swirl within bottle. Both ignoring the water for now, they turned towards each and spoke in low voices, but not low enough that Valentina couldn't hear every word.

"We just have to wait for this Moriarty guy to come out so we can ask him about my Dad. Seems like a real tool so far though." The kid informed the girl. She nodded, but her gaze still hadn't left the ghoul, as if she couldn't comprehend the existence of the man before her. The kid seemed to not notice her expression, turning as if looking for someone else. "Where's Butch?"

"He said something about checking out the nuke." She told him. The kid sighed and shook his head.

"If that asshole blows us up, I swear, I won't be surprised." He said, rubbing his head in obvious irritation. Valentina wondered if this Butch looked the same as these two, nice hair, pristine clothing, and overall good hygiene. Was this a scouting party from the vault that was nearby?

* * *

Butch scratched the stubble underneath his chin as he looked at the giant bomb before him. The nuclear missile, jutting out of the center of town, surrounded in a pool of irradiated water, had caught his eye since the moment they had walked into town. He had always had a small interest in explosives, mostly gained from his use of cherry bombs and firecrackers to torment his elders when he was a teenager, but it had grown into a hobby of his over the time. Whenever he was feeling down or stressed, a firecracker in the toilet always brightened his mood. Still, that was small time stuff, things that gave him a slight burn if he accidently messed up, while this was an active Nuclear missile. A simple mistake, and the entire mile around this crappy little town would be wiped out.

It was common knowledge to learn about the nuclear missiles for Vault Dwellers, mostly under the tag of learning history so that they were not doomed to repeat it. Not that Butch ever saw someone building a nuclear missile and launching it within their lifetime. Which was perhaps the reason he never paid attention in that class and ended up in detention more times than he could count during those particular lessons. Shaking his head, he wasn't exactly sure the wisdom behind building an entire town around a nuclear bomb, even more confused about the religious nut who was standing nearby and worshipping it. Shaking his head and deciding it wasn't worth his time, he set out to find where the other two had rushed off to.

It took him a bit, navigating the various catwalks and getting lost a couple of times before he finally found the saloon where they had gone. Grumbling about the confusing layout of the city, he entered the saloon as an older looking man approached Amata and Douglas where they sat. Butch narrowed his eyes, walking forward and standing behind them as the man introduced him. "Colin Moriarty at your service! Welcome to Moriarty's. My saloon, my home and my little heaven in this slice of backwoods little burb. If you got the caps, I've got your pleasure. Your troubles are a thing of the past." Butch's mother, in the brief moments when she was sober enough to speak coherently, had always told him to never trust a guy who talked as if he always got his way, because if you listened to him, then he would.

"Hello, I was told you were the person to talk to about my dad. You know, middle-aged guy, looks like an older me, pip-boy on the wrist." Douglas said, looking at Moriarty with a nod. Butch crossed his arms as he watched Moriarty, the squeaking of his leather jacket causing both Douglas and Amata to make a swift glance back to confirm his presence. Moriarty paused, reaching up to scratch his goatee as he leaned forward and took a good look at Douglas's face.

"My god….it's you." Moriarty stated after he was satisfied. Douglas and Amata quickly exchanged looks of confusion before he managed to continue. "The little baby boy, all grown up. Persistant little bastard, ain't ya?" He chuckled at the last part, as if he knew something that Douglas did not. "Then and now it would seem. It's been a long time kid."

"What…." Douglas attempted to question Moriarty's apparent knowledge of his life but the Irish saloon owner continued his talk, refusing to let Douglas speak.

"Oh, your daddy passed through here alright. Got what he came for and left. I'm assuming you'll want to do the same, correct?" Moriarty stated, crossing his arms and getting a mischievous smile. Douglas shook his head in skeptical doubt, looking at Moriarty as he spoke.

"My dad and I were born in Vault 101." Douglas mentioned. Moriarty let out a condescending laugh at this, mocking the naivety of the young adult before him, shaking his head all the while.

"Is that what he told ya? That you were born in that hole? That _he _was born there as well?" Moriarty chuckled the whole while, even finishing his sentence by wiping away an imaginary tear from his eye. "Ah, the lies we tell those we love." Finally sobering up from his mocking laugh, Moriarty continued. "Your father took ya to that Vault right after you were born. To keep you safe you see. I remember it well…..you stayed in my saloon after all. That's right. You father, his Brotherhood of Steel friend and you, the suckling babe with nary a tit to suckle." Moriarty tsked a couple of times as if he saw this as a true tragedy, not paying attention to the growing expression of shock that was growing on Douglas's face. "Sorry about your mom. Truly. Ah, but life goes on. Your daddy lied. Life's full of disappointments. And now…..you're all grown up and wondering where he's gone off to."

"You're lying. I was born in Vault 101." Douglas said, though what was attempted anger sounded more like denial. Butch was faintly aware that their conversation had caused the entire bar to go quiet as they listened in on this. Some had sympathy in their eyes, obviously feeling sorry for Douglas but most simply watched the proceedings with calm eyes, as if this was nothing more than this evening's entertainment.

"Ah, I heard about the brainwashing that goes that goes on down there. From some other fella who escape some…" Moriarty paused to think for a moment, which gave Douglas enough time to lower his head in his hands. "Five years back now I believe. 'All hail the Overseer. We're born in the Vault, we'll die in the Vault.' And some assorted lunacy like that. Kid, you've got better programming than our own Deputy Weld. You'd better wise up quick. Wouldn't want anyone taking advantage of ya, now would we?" The last part seemed more like a veiled threat rather than a warning on his behalf. Douglas was no longer responding to the man, simply resting his head in his hands as he absorbed this new information.

"Look asshole, he asked where his dad was. You gonna answer or what?" Butch spoke up finally, speaking in the place of Douglas. Moriarty narrowed his eyes as he looked at Butch, before shrugging and looking back at Douglas.

"Ya'll look like nice kids, so I'll be straight with ya. His dad was here and now he's not. And yes, I know where he went. But what you're asking me for is information and information is a commodity. And like any commodity, it must be sold at a reasonable market price. So, what's reasonable?" Moriarity placed a hand on his goatee once more, stroking it as he thought about what to charge the kids for the information. The person who was sitting next to the group had sat up in her stool and was no watching the proceeding with what seemed like feigned interest. "Let's say…..100 caps…and one of them Vault Suits. And your daddy's location is yours."

"I wouldn't do it even if you were desperate." Spoke the woman next to Douglas finally, drawing the attention of the interacting four.

"Oh, and I suppose someone invited you to this conversation?" Moriarty responded to the comment, his glare focused on her as she tried to cheat him out of some caps. Valentina finished her beer in a quick swig and tossed the bottle over her shoulder as she spoke the next lines, the shattering glass causing everyone to jump in surprise.

"I'm just saying, a man willing to take your clothes off your back for something is not a man you trust." Valentina told them, looking towards the trio. "And never get information from someone you don't trust. Their drinks are on me." She stood up and set down enough caps to cover her own tab and the kids as well. Then, without a word, she walked out of the bar and into the city of Megaton. There was a brief moment of silence as Moriarty returned his gaze to the three kids in front of him, waiting for an answer, only to receive a glare from both Butch and Amata. Then, without a word towards the saloon owner, with Amata leading him, they left the bar.

"So, took my advice?" Valentina's voice said as they all walked out of the bar. The leather jacket teen turned towards the woman, who was leaning on the railing of the catwalk in front of them, careful enough not to put all her weight into the lean and crossed his arms in obvious irritation.

"Who are you?" The girl asked, who she had figured out was Amata by their conversation.

"Valentina Velazquez, but you can call me Val. It simpler and shorter. I'm a….." Val paused as she didn't quite know what to consider herself anymore. "Well, consider me a free agent of sorts. And you, well, you're a bunch of _los conjeros en un zorro agujero_."

"What?" Butch asked, not understanding what she meant.

"Your rabbits that have wondered into a foxhole. Vault Dwellers without a vault is like a merchant without his gun. You're going to go to what you think is a good deal and get stabbed and left for dead in the process." Valentina told them. "You guys aren't going to last longer than a few minutes outside the vault, the muties will tear you apart with ease."

"Muties?" Douglas finally spoke, his voice struggling to keep even. Valentina shook her head as they gave her the perfect example of why they were doom to die in an unmarked grave.

"Exactly my point. You guys don't even know what Super Mutants are, how the hell are you going to deal with anything else that comes you way? What are you going to do when a Raider so hopped up on Jet and Psycho charges you with a knife and takes the bullets you put into him like nothing more than bug bites?" Valentina mentioned. They all began to exchange looks as Valentina continued to confirm their worst fears about the wasteland. It was clear none of them had the training required to survive longer than a few days and that was being generous. Before she had a chance to continue, the door behind them opened and gave way to a familiar looking ghoul.

"Hey, you're still here." Gob said, looking at Douglas. "Look, I was once like you. I wondered into this town, looking for an escape from stupid joke of a body I'm trapped in. Now look at me." He shook his hand and placed a decaying hand on his head as the ghoul remembered all the hardships he's been forced through by Moriarty. "Look, Moriarty would have my head if he knew I told you this, but he has a terminal in the back he keeps all the going ons of Megaton on. You get on there, I'll bet you find your dad." Gob paused as he heard his name get called from inside. "Now get away from me, smoothskin. If Moriarty even suspects I told this, he'll have my head." Gob turned and grabbed the door handle, ready to resume his job at the bar.

"Gob!" The ghoul paused when he heard Douglas call his name. He turned and faced them with a raised eyebrow. "Thank you." Gob nodded in return and returned his job inside with Moriarty's remarks coming through the cracked door.

"I ought to take a page from Butch's book and ambush him." Douglas muttered. Butch turned towards him and glared.

"Will you fucking drop that shit already?" Butch snapped at him. Douglas smiled weakly and shrugged.

"Only if you admit Amata kicked your ass." Both remained silent, Douglas's humorous grim matched Butch's hard glare at him. Then without a word to each other, they both turned back towards Valentina, who was watching them with a raised eyebrow. Neither one elaborated on the small verbal bout.

"I appreciate the advice but I have to find my dad. It's the only thing I know to do right now." Douglas told her, his voice determined.

"Yeah, and I'll be damned if I'm staying in this town with a damn nuke." Butch motioned behind her, to where they all had a perfect view of the active nuke in the town center. Amata didn't say anything, simply holding Douglas's hand and nodded in a determined way. Valentina sighed as she realized this was foolish bravado that was now compelling. They had a direction and they didn't want to compromise it.

"_Mierda. _You're just a bunch of idiots. Fine. Meet me outside of town tomorrow and I'll teach you to survive out here." She told them, sighing as she shook her head.

"Why?" Butch asked, causing Valentina to smile. At least there was hope for that one.

"I have my reasons."

"Look, I can't wait that long. I need to find my dad as soon as possible." Douglas argued, shaking his head at the prospect. Valentina sighed with irritation at this statement, knowing that the kid hadn't quite realized how dangerous the wasteland was.

"Oh yes, I'm sure you have a spectactular plan to break into Moriarty's saloon and hack his computer hours after you told him that you were looking for your dad. I'm sure he won't suspect a thing when he finds his computer hacked and his locks picked." Val pointed out, shrugging as if she couldn't care as she stated these. The trio exchanged looks before Douglas slowly nodded to the others.

"Okay, we'll wait."

* * *

**SO, there is actually a lot I wanted to talk about in this chapter as to the changes I made. For convience, I shall do something I rarely do and...number them. Bum, buh, buh!**

**1) I was never able to understand how Dad got so far ahead of the Lone Wanderer in the actual game, seeing as you never have to sleep or eat and can literally just walk to the Jefferson Memorial from Megaton. (Obviously, the game can't reprogram itself to fit me being a douche and skipping the story.) Narrative wise, it doesn't make sense. So this training will explain that.**

**2) Valentina's going to be more in tune with her ethnic root. I've noticed that people in fallout are rarely in touch with their ethnic roots, with very few people speaking anything but English. (Unless of course, there are NPCs I somehow always miss in my playthroughs. Its happened before.) Please note, I myself do not know Spanish, so I used an online translator for the online translation. If its wrong, please let me know as soon as possible and I will change it to the correct version.****3) The trio will have their own abilities as I am trying to set up. Put in Fallout terms, Douglas's scholastic skills will be put in Science, Repair and Medicine. Amata's would be in Lockpick, Sneak and Speech and Butch's would be in Explosive, Melee and Unarmed. This is regardless to what their skills would actually be in the game as in all respects, they will be different characters. (They do still belong to Bethesda and stuff. Feel like I should say that should lawyers be watching Fanfiction, waiting for someone to slip. So they can sink their talons in and rip apart our wallet's veins. Those heartless bastards...sorry, drifted off there.)**

**4) James and Frank's Storyline will be told separate from the trio with their own chapters. However, they will probably be shorter and less frequent in the series. **

**Also, I have noticed that I have an affinity for making female OCs. Everyone one of my OCs that have made it to the light of day are generally males. Katori, Samantha, Valentina. I like to think of Frank as my own as well, since I have changed her from her original version as well but I won't say it outright at the risk of offending Sonic. Anywho, hope you enjoyed the new chapter, and I will be back with more later on in the week. **


	7. Blues in the Night

**Heyo! Back up with another update for this story. A short and sweet one, featuring James and Frank. This chapter is mostly to get to know the two characters a little more. In any case, Read, Enjoy, Review.**

Frank eyed James as her new companion typed away at his pip-boy, the light from the pip-boy and the light from the fire illuminating his face perfectly despite the night around them. They had camped near the metro entrance that would take them to the Galaxy New station just outside the ruins of DC. Both of them agreed that it would best to wait until morning so that they at least knew where the Super Mutants were during their visit. They camped just outside the gate of the Metro station, down the stairs so that they would be hidden from any raiders who wandered by them wouldn't see them automatically, and they could retreat into the metro should it happen.

She took a swig from her flash, which had light bouncing off it in various ways as the hand holding it shook slightly. Placing her capped flask at her hip and a shaking hand underneath her leg, she turned to face James. "So, what's the story? How did you get into Vault 101?" James paused what he was doing, looking over to Frank with a look of curiosity.

"How do you know I wasn't just born there?" James asked, turning his pip-boy into its locked mode. Frank chuckled as if it was obvious and motioned at him.

"Look at you, your completely at home. You're not glancing around constantly, keeping an eye out for monsters. You have yet to ask me what I mean when I keep saying muties. You've clearly been in the wasteland before and have plenty experience. Maybe even more than me." Frank listed off, remembering her first day with James. He hadn't even flinched when three raiders had charged them, instantly drawing his weapon and firing upon the psychos as they charged the armed adversaries with pool cues and knives. "I've seen people who were born in a town have more trouble with the wasteland than you. Which means you didn't your teen years in a cushy and safe vault." James sighed and looked at her.

"No, I'm afraid you're right. I wasn't born in the vault. I was actually born in the west, near Vegas, in some small town of wastelanders. I got in because the Vault Overseer needed a doctor and he had no one inside the vault." James shrugged, looking towards Frank. Frank smiled at the news, grabbing her flask once more.

"I've always wanted to go to New Vegas, gamble my problems away like those big shots always do. Though I would prefer to find one of the old Franky music collections. What I wouldn't give to be able to own my own Sinatra." Frank told him, uncapping her flask and toasting to the legacy of the man she spoke of. James raised one eye slightly at her, looking her over real quickly as she did this. Capping her flask, she tossed it towards the doctor, catching him by surprise and forcing him to break his gaze in order to catch it. "Have a drink, on me." James uncapped the flask, sniffing at the smell before shaking his head.

"I prefer scotch." He told her as he tossed it back.

"Scotch man? Naw, its all about whiskey. It's got more of a robust flavor to it. Scotch is like drinking burnt leather." Frank disagreed as she caught her flask in return, uncapping it and continuing to empty its contents. James merely chuckled at that.

"Well, you know what they say. The first taste is like a burnt cork, the second is like leather, and third, you're a scotch drinker for life." James replied, causing Frank to laugh about that. She sighed as she looked at the small .32 pistol that was currently hanging on James' hip, thinking about how the bullets would be better served in the clip of a hunting rifle.

"You know, I expected to be protecting you from every little danger but here I find you know almost about the wasteland as I do." Frank mentioned, shaking her head at her perceived view of a helpless doctor in the wastes. "I'm beginning to rethink my decision to escort you to Galaxy News."

"I've been thinking of that actually. Why is it that you offered to help me? I can tell you now that where I'm going isn't worth looting." James wondered as he spoke. Frank chuckled to herself and pulled a golden coin from her pocket, using her obtained agility to flip the coin easily between her fingers as she leaned back onto the stairs.

"I have a thing with karma, I suppose. I find that if I help people and avoid being a psychotic bitch to everyone, good things generally happen to me." Frank sighed as her shaking hands caused her to drop the coin she was holding in the mid of flipping it between her middle and index finger. "Or some shit like that. People generally get fucked either which way in this wasteland. Maybe I just enjoy making friends so I have enough to pull to kick ass when someone does fuck with me." James just grimaced as she said this, as if he didn't quite approve of what she had to say. Ignoring his disapproving look, she picked up her coin and roughly shoved it back into her pockets. "I got first watch, Doc. You get your sleep, I'll wake you up when the moon is halfway gone." With that, Frank stood up and slowly walked up the stairs with her assault rifle, ready to watch for the dangers of the waste.

* * *

_I'll be seeing you in all the old, familiar places  
That this heart of mine embraces all day through  
In that small cafe, the park across the way  
The children's carousel, the chestnut tree, the wishing well_

_I'll be seeing you in ev'ry lovely summer's day_  
_In everything that's light and gay_  
_I'll always think of you that way_  
_I'll find you in the morning sun and when the night is new_  
_I'll be looking at the moon but I'll be seeing you_

Frank sighed as she imagined the ending instrumental music to the song, closing her eyes as it played out in her head. Her shaking hand held the Jet container in the warm embrace of her grip, the once cold inhaler now warmed by the amount of time it had been in her hands without being used. She opened her hands as she stared at the container, mentally preparing herself for the intake. If she was really heading into DC, the most Super Mutant infested ruins in the entire Capital Wasteland save for Vault 87, then she didn't need her hands shaking and her mind constantly drifting to her pack. Taking a deep breath, she placed the inhaler in her mouth and hit the button that released the drugged gas.

The drug filled her system, making her chest slowly untighten and her stomach loosen as the anticipation for the event finally ended. She held the drugged gas in her mouth for a good amount of time, allowing the saturation in her mouth, before she finally allowed the gas to slowly leak down her throat. The Jet didn't take effect immediately, causing her to sit back and look up at the night sky as she waited for the drug to fill her system completely. "I noticed the symptoms back when we were passing the Super Duper Mart."

She jumped as James walked up the stairs from behind her, his eyes wide open, revealing that he hadn't been asleep. She grimaced as she dropped the Jet container near her feet, looking down at the floor as he stared at her. "And? I'm not some wasteland junkie who will do anything for a hit. I'd have already knifed you and taken your shit if that was the case." Frank replied as placed the jet container underneath her foot. "Besides, it's not even my own damn fault I'm hooked on the stuff." To emphasize her point, she slowly crushed the Jet container underneath her foot, taking satisfaction in listening to cracking of metal and plastic of jet inhaler. James nodded at this and took a seat on the ground next to her.

"You know, making a jet antidote isn't really that difficult. All I'd need is a few basic medical supplies and any competent doctor can cure it." James told her, folding his hands in his lap. Frank laughed dryly at that.

"Look, Doc, I appreciate the thought, but I'm fine. I'm weening myself off it. A couple of years ago, I couldn't go a couple of hours without a hit. That was my first hit in a week. I'll be fine." Frank told him, looking him in the eye as she spoke. James looked at her for a moment, before nodding as if he understood her intent or her reasons. "Glad you're not going to give me a long winded speech about admitting I have a problem or shit like that. Last doctor I met wouldn't stop preaching about the dangers of addiction and all that. I told him to shut the hell up and stitch the damn knife wound."

"No, I find that if someone doesn't want the help, its just a waste of breath to tell them to get it." James told her. Frank shook her head at this, unsure whether she should be glad the Doc wasn't bothering her or upset he didn't see her as worth the time. She lifted her foot and looked at the crushed remains of the jet container, finding delight in the sight. The slight bit of euphoria that was beginning in her system probably helped with the happy feeling that was feeling her stomach right now, which quickly ended the smile on her face.

"Doc, you want to get some sleep. We have another day of travel tomorrow."

* * *

**Right, some things to say about this. James' stuff is based mostly off of speculation. Whenever I make it to Project Purity and I find that holo-tape, I've notice a lot of scotch bottles in the room as well and combined with a bit of dialogue, I see James as a scotch man. Also, in Fallout: New Vegas, I've noticed a picture that exists in Vault 21, and while it might just be an easter egg, I'm using it as a indication of a backstory. The last thing is that I acquitted Jet's usage as meth, to compare it to a real world drug. Anyways, that being said, I will be back soon with a much more...expansive update.**


	8. Ain't Misbehavin

**Heyo! Sorry for the late update. It's been a bit and I haven't really had access to wifi as often as I would like. But that's in the past now, and I would like to assure you that I will probably not post later again. But in any case, here is the latest update. Read, Enjoy, Review. **

The common house was filled by the time that they found out about, leaving only one of the beds for them to claim when they arrived during the night. Douglas offered the bed to Amata to the night, which led Butch to leave the Common house without another word. After a few reassurances that he would be fine outside with Butch and pressuring Amata into taking the bed, Douglas finally got her to accept the bed. Once he was sure that she fine in the bed and that she had fallen asleep comfortably, Douglas left to find a place to rest for the night.

When he stepped outside, the first thing he saw was Butch sitting on the couch just outside of the common house, leaning forward with his hands folded between his knees. Douglas paused, debating between just walking off, trying to find a warm place to rest for the night or staying. His decision was made when he sat down next to Butch, hands in his vault suits pockets and his back against the cool cushions of the torn up couch. "So, I don't suppose this is everything you thought it was?" Douglas broke the silence only a few minutes after it stretched. Butch scoffed and looked back at Douglas as he sat there.

"Man, I'm not the one who always pissed off the overseer with the talks of leaving the vault." Butch mentioned with a shake of the head. Douglas chuckled and took his hands out of his pockets.

"Most of that was just to piss the guy off, I never meant anything by it. I never actually imagined I would make it out here, let alone that I wanted to." Douglas told him, waving off the memories of him casually mentioning it to the overseer whenever the man scolded him for causing trouble. None of those would help him and a sad albeit slightly relieved reminder came to him that they would probably never see that old man again.

"No you didn't." Butch told him, shaking his head. "You probably pissed him off the most when he found out you were banging Amata." Douglas narrowed his eyes and sat up in protest.

"I'm not banging Amata!" Douglas told him. Butch smiled at this, which of course caused Douglas to cough uncomfortably before adding: "She's my girlfriend. Not just booty call. I might even…..you know, love her." Douglas threw his hands in the air at this, knowing there was no way out of this but to change the subject. "Besides, how would you even know? The only time we could be in the same room as each other was when we got tossed into a cell together."

"Because the Overseer wanted the Tunnel Snakes to….teach you a lesson so. Wanted us to sneak up behind you and let loose on ya, tell you to leave her alone or next time, you would be in the medical area for weeks." Butch told him. Douglas sat up at this, looking at Butch to see if the bully was lying to his rival or not only to find Butch holding a straight face. Douglas sighed and shook his head in disappointment at this fact, not sure if he should be upset that he wasn't surprised or that the Overseer actually tried to get him that way. "I told him 'No way. Tunnel Snakes fight right up in your face with fangs…." Butch paused for a moment as he considered what else to say. "and knives and stuff. Anyway, he didn't want us being seen because only the garbage burners got access to where it would happen without the overseer's approval."

"Well, thanks for not ambushing me…again, Butch. I'm sure that something our children will speak of when old friends." Douglas said, shaking his head at the revelation. He stood up off the couch, not sure he wanted to remain around his old bully any longer lest he found even more reasons to regret shooting the Overseer when he had the chance. However, he was unsure what to think when Butch stood up as well, placing his hands in the Tunnel Snakes jacket as he stood. "Something you need?"

"I don't need to explain myself to you." Butch answered defensively, glaring at Douglas. Before Douglas had time to respond however, Butch shook his head and sighed. "Man, I'm just going to look at that bomb again. I don't think I can sleep in a town with an active nuke in it." He took one hand out of his pockets and ran it through his hair as he spoke, almost seeming ashamed of how he first responded to the question. Douglas took a deep breath and scratched the back of his head at the awkward tension between the two.

"Well, I got nothing better to do and someone has to make sure you don't kill everyone." Douglas shrugged, turning towards the middle of town as if to lead the way. However, before he had a chance to start walking and Butch had a chance to growl at him for tagging along through pure instinct, a quiet but commanding voice spoke from the shadows near the common house.

"Vault Dwellers." Both turned to see a man emerge from the shadows. This man was one that had been in the Saloon earlier, as he had silently watched them without any noticing. He wore a nice white suit, some of the cleanest clothing that Douglas had seen within the entire town, topping his head with a black fedora, one that hid the top half of his face in shadow in the night. Underneath the hat, the sparkling outline of a pair of sunglasses was evident to Douglas, making him wonder who would wear sunglasses during the night. "A pleasure to make both of your acquaintances." His voice was smooth and distinct, but had a slight tone to it that made Douglas nervous.

"Who the hell are you?" Butch responded to him, pulling his hands out of his jacket and taking an offensive stance towards the man. The man simply chuckled, strolling casually over to the couch they had just stood up from, reaching into his pocket as he did so. Then, pulling out a cigarette from the packet, he sat down and pulled out a lighter in one fluid motion.

"I….." He lit the cigarette and took a long inhale before finishing: "am Mister Burke. And you? Well, you are not residents of this…putrescent cesspool. And that makes both of you rather valuable individuals."

"It does?" Douglas replied, unsure if he liked some of the adjectives that the man was using to describe the town. Burke chuckled at this, and, almost as if taking great care to do so, flicked his cigarette ash onto the floor.

"Why yes. Don't you see? You're free agents. You have no ties here, no interests in this settlement's affairs. You can come and go as you please, nothing to be lost if…something were to happen." As he spoke, he casually leaned back into the chair, motioning with his hands to emphasize what he was trying to get across. Exchanging a glance with Butch, he could tell that he also had misgivings about where this conversation was heading, but neither walked away. "See, I represent certain…..interests….that would benefit greatly if this burgeoning urban landscape were to….disappear. And if it were to suddenly go away, who would really care. Certainly not you and not I…"

"So, what, you want to chase everyone out of town and level the place?" Butch clarified, crossing his arms as both him and Douglas began to catch what this Burke was getting at. Burke simply chuckled menacingly at the idea and shrugged.

"Something along that line. Now, I heard your conversation at the bar. Fresh out of the vault correct? In need of information that that bog-jumper refused to share unless you filled his pockets? I also can't imagine that any of you are doing quite well in the financial department either." He raised an eyebrow as he spoke, showing he clearly knew that he already knew the answer to the questions presented. However, Douglas was still unsure whether he heard the man clearly when he referred to Moriarty. "Well, lucky for you, I have been looking for an admirable candidate to strike a deal with."

"What kind of deal?" Butch asked, his voice remaining even despite the circumstances.

"Well, a deal that has lucrative rewards for those who have the guts for glory and the will to succeed. You see, there are obstacles, as they should be called, to overcome the task set before me. It's all part of a long-term goal, you see. I have been given the ever so important task of paving the way for the return of the civilization of old." Burke held his cigarette with his mouth, pulling out his pack and offering towards the two teens in front of him, both of which refused with a shake of the head. "You see, I have been placed in the position of vanguard for a progressive individuals looking to retake the wasteland, to bring civilization back to its former glory and not the anarchy that it is today. I have witnessed atrocities that no man nor woman should have to deal with in their time. Raiders with so much drugs in their systems that they simply shrug off the bullets put into them. Slavers who sell people as livestock to others in the wastes without regard. Feral men who beat others down with a crude club and feast on their remains as one would a steak. This is not the men of a society, don't you agree?"

"Isn't a society a group of people who represent a common goal in the end and work together in order to achieve this goal?" Douglas reminded, crossing his arms as his growing dislike for this man was reaching new heights. However, in his mind, he wondered how much of what Burke said was true. Was there really slavers in this world? Men who ate other people as they would a box of crams or sugarbite? Burke, however, did not take this for the insult that it was.

"A man schooled in the ideals of philosophy. A rare occurrence in the wasteland indeed." Burke stated as he put his cigarette out on the armrest of the couch. "However, as much as a debate in the philosophical idea of a society interests me, I find myself on limited time. As a vanguard towards this society, I find myself in the position of solving the problem that this town presents." Burke stood from the couch, placing his hands behind his back and pacing back and forth in front of the common house, as if blocking them from leaving him without an answer. "This town is nothing more than an assembled group of glorified squatters without a modicum of civility amongst them all. That knuckle-dragger of a sheriff insists of running everything through his crude system of wasteland justice, which is nothing more than a new name for the barbaric ways of the wastes. A bog-trotter of a saloon owner that cons people; cheating them from fortune and favor to enforce his own rule. A queer shop owner whose heads remain in the clowns despite the proverbial restraints around her own ankles.

"But, as the case may be, I have an offer in which we both can benefit from. One where both parties, me and you, benefit from the result. You see, if you do what I ask, I can obtain the information of the whereabouts of your father from that decrepit saloon while also paying forth a sum of caps that would make even the most well off wastelander jump to accept." Burke informed them, pulling a small metal box from his pocket. Neither Douglas nor Butch got a good look at the box, only aware that it was much cleaner and shinier than anything else they had seen in the wasteland.

"And what is it that you ask?" Douglas questioned, now extremely wary of the man before them. The way he spoke and references the town people, almost as if he viewed them as nothing more than insects beneath his boot. As if it would mean nothing to him if his boot were to come down and snuff out their existence. The man smiled at his question, tossing the box in his hand towards Douglas, who caught it on the edge of his fingertips.

"You see, the undetonated device for which this ghetto is named is still….very much alive. All it needs is a little….motivation, so to speak." Burke continued, his tone going more silent and malicious as he spoke, motioning towards the device in Douglas's hand. Douglas looked down at the device, examining it best he could. It looked like a converted energy cell, rewired carefully to put out its maximum output in a single instance. Douglas knew that if he had attempted to use it on anything that didn't have a large energy output for such a small charge, it would overload the system. "That beautiful little device if a fusion pulse charge. Once rigged, it will be detonated by one of you…..from a safe distance…..at a secure location. In return, safety and security are but two things that are guaranteed for your fortune." Unbeknownest to the teens, that as Mr. Burke spoke to them, his hand had trailed down and was now gripping the silenced pistol strapped to his thigh. He knew he was taking a risk trusting these two, but he had been in this town too long and there were other things that he needed to attend to.

"Why haven't you done this yourself? It can't be that hard to rig a bomb with that charge." Butch questioned, his eyes still narrowed at the man. Douglas had a foul taste in his mouth that prevented him from speaking, which only got worse the longer he looked at the man before him. Was this guy serious about blowing up the entire town, just because someone didn't like the fact it was here?

"Ah, that Sheriff is the problem I'm afraid. As much as I despise the man, his instincts are suiting for his self-proclaimed importance. Any time I dare to draw near to the bomb, the man appears out of the woodwork, eyeing me as if he knew I was plotting against his favor." Burke explained, his face contorted into one of pure annoyance as he spoke about the sheriff. Douglas was simply glad the man had yet to make another racist remark towards him. Butch nodded his head along as Burke spoke, stopping when the man had had his say. Then he grabbed the pulse charge from Douglas.

"Consider it done." Butch said, pocketing the pulse charge. Douglas's heart dropped to his stomach as he turned to Butch, his eyes widening at the bully's acceptance of these terms. The surprise and shock were so much that Douglas couldn't even speak as Butch finished the deal, without Butch even regarding him.

"Excellent my dear boy. You will find me at a settlement called Tenpenny Tower, a tower just southwest of here. There I will have you rewards and you will receive them once this blight is removed from the land." Burke responded, a twisted smirk coming to his face. "I'll leave you to it then." Burke then slinked back into the shadows without another words, easily blending into the shadows as he disappeared. Douglas didn't care, staring at Butch as he clenched his fists.

"You know, after years of bullying, I still wouldn't have pegged you for a murderer Butch." Douglas growled, taking a step away from the bully. Butch took offense to that, turning and facing Douglas with confrontational intentions.

"Are you fucking serious?" He asked, glaring at his fellow Vault dweller with disbelief. Douglas didn't even bother to respond to this, glaring at him with equal intensity. Butch bit the inside of his cheek and stepped back shaking his head, the anger evidence on his face. What was he angry about? The fact that he was going to something heinous and was called on it? Douglas grew even more bitter as a result. Then, Butch did something that surprised Douglas. He reached into his pocket and turned away from them as he wound his hand back, then sent the Pulse charge into the sky and off into the night without any way of finding it. Then, without a word, he tugged on his jacket and stormed away, leaving a speechless Douglas standing there.

Eventually Douglas sighed and returned to the couch. Today had not been his day. Maybe tomorrow held promise. At least they had some sort of goal for tomorrow, training couldn't be worse than today.

* * *

**So, what do you all think? I think the chapter is pretty self-explanatory in and of itself. For the record, I was trying to make Burke as slimy and unlikable as possible, because that was the vibe I got from him the first time I played the game. Of course, I also made the mistake of telling the sheriff and then getting him killed in response, but forget that. Also, I am playing Butch with a more distinct morality, beyond the neutral he presents in the later parts of the game. Well, that was the update, let me know what you think. **


	9. Shake, Rattle and Roll

**Heyo! I'm back, if only for a short time. I severely apologize for my lack of uploads throughout the last few weeks. I've been focusing on original works more than my fanfictions. But I have left many stories unfinished and I am attempting to come back to them. While I'm going to work on uploading the rest of Into the Wasteland, I am also working on my Naruto Fanfiction, Dragons and Foxes, as the main reason I abandoned it was because I wasn't sure where to go with it but I now have a fair idea.**

**Ah, but you didn't come here for this. I present unto the ninth chapter of Into the Wasteland. I apologize if my pacing is a little slow for the liking but don't worry, they will actually be in the Wasteland soon. But this chapter, of course, focuses on their "Training". Read, Enjoy, Review.**

* * *

The training literally began when Valentina threw a grenade at them. They had been waiting for the woman to appear where she had told them, just outside of Megaton, near Springvale. They had taken residence in one of the burned out houses, sitting without a word to each other as they anticipated anything but what happened. When they spotted Valentina, they stood and walked towards her, expecting something akin to a drill sergeant routine. Not a word to be said, not a single hint of warning, before she pulled a grenade from her pouch and tossed it at them, with a casual underhand. Causing them to respond in different ways. Amata shouted in surprise and dove for cover, jumping behind the mailbox and tucking her head in. Douglas sprinted off, sliding down behind a pile of rubble and tucking his head in. Butch jumped forward, grabbing the grenade and tossing it away from them, ducking his head as he expected it to explode ahead of them. Only for silence to fill the air.

"What the hell!?" Butch demanded, once they came to the realization that the grenade wouldn't explode. Douglas took a shaky breath and stood up, looking around just to make sure the explosion hadn't hit him and made him delirious. Valentina was shaking her head as Butch angrily shouted, with a hint of disappointment.  
"The others ran while you stood your ground. Brave, but incredibly stupid." Valentina commented as she scooped up the grenade where it had fallen. Douglas slowly walked out of the building, his heart pounding so hard against his ribcage that he was sure it was going to bust through any second. Amata still hadn't emerged from behind the mailbox, her hands covering her ears. "You threw the grenade, which would have been smart if you threw it at me. Instead, you threw it in a different direction, which would have given me time to draw my weapon and put three rounds in your chest." Valentina informed the speechless group as she carefully reinserted the grenade's pin in the dud. She turned towards Douglas. "You and your girlfriend there did a smart thing, diving for cover. However she dove for somewhere that is highly likely to get her killed. See the mailbox?" Valentina gestured to the mailbox. "It's too far from any other cover to be safe, not to mention if a good shot is after you, he could aim underneath the mailbox and put a round right in her ass. And you. Well, you choose a place with a lot of cover but you lost track of your enemy. They could sneak around you and bash your head in while you looked for them."

"So….." Douglas attempted but had to stop as he took a deep but calming breath. "What was the right answer to that?" Valentina chuckled and crossed her arms, the bullets of her bandoleers jingling as she did so.

"Honestly? Tank the explosion and use the shock of the enemies to empty your clip into them." She shrugged. "But unless you have some Brotherhood power armor, that would probably kill you, so I would stick to the running for now. In the wastes, there is no right answer, only a better answer. If you dive behind a pile of rubble, its because your enemy dove behind a mailbox. If you dive behind a mailbox….." Douglas noticed that Amata was now standing up, visibly shaken by the ordeal as she looked towards where the other three stood. "…..You have to hope the enemy just a junky raider, which most of the time, it probably will be. And if you throw the grenade, hope the enemy is the worst shot in the world." Butch huffed at the shot taken at his action, his leather jacket squeaking as he crossed his arms in anger.

"How about a little warning next time then?" Butch growled.

"Will a wasteland junkie give you a warning when he pulls out a pistol and robs you of all your caps? Will a Raider give you a warning when they decide that your intestines will be their new scarf? Will the Talon Company give you warning when they get a contract that from someone who wants your head on a stick on their front lawn?" Valentina told him, her voice calm and unwavering as she stared down the taller bully. "Probably on the last one, they like to rub it in."

"Mind if we just stick to the academics of surviving before we test it?" Douglas asked, as his heart finally settled to just feeling like he was doing jumping jacks. "We're kind of the 'learn it first, test it later' kind of people." Valentina sighed and shook her head, her expression skeptical, though Douglas was sure he saw a hint of sadness behind it.

"Theory's nice and fine, but useless when it comes to the actual practice. You can, in theory, shoot a gun doesn't mean that same as you can shoot a gun." Valentina pointed out but then she shrugged. "But fine, let's stick to the basic knowledge of the wastes."

"Hey, I didn't say shit. I want to know how to deal with the shit out here first." Butch announced, thumbing towards himself in an angry stance. Valentina paused, looking between the two as they swapped a very angry glare before her eyes rested on the only person who hadn't spoke.

"Well, seeing as they're having a lover's dispute. What's the final vote for?" She asked past them, motioning towards her. Amata paused, looking between Butch and Douglas as she stood there, the spotlight on her. Amata took a deep breath, no doubt calming herself like Douglas had done before she finally answered.

"We need to learn about survival before we can fight. Survival is inevitable but fighting is a choice." Amata pointed out, causing Butch to throw his hands in the air.

"They're banging. Did you expect her to choose something else?" Butch angrily commented before taking a few steps away from them in an attempt to cool down. Both Amata and Douglas glared at him, with Valentina taking a deep breath as she realized how much dysfunction this group really had. Then, she reached into her bag and produced a single bottle cap, holding between her thumb and index finger as she directed their attention to it.

"You see this? This is the most valuable thing in the entire wastes." Valentina commented.

"A bottle cap?" Amata questioned.

"This isn't a bottle cap. This is water for the day, this is the bed when you travelling through the waste, this is the food that will keep you moving until the next day." Valentina kept going, trying her best to get the point across. "Caps are currency. Currency is life in this wasteland. Easy enough to understand."

"But why bottle caps? Why not…..pre-war currency?" Douglas questioned, his mind going to collection of bottle caps his father had. It made sense now, the bag of caps that his father had hidden.

"You'll find people who will still accept pre-war money or pre-war stuff. Some people will readily give out thousands of caps to someone who can get plenty of gold to them, but to most people. It's completely useless." She shrugged. "Don't really know why caps were chosen but, in the end, does it even matter? If you don't have caps, you aren't worth the time to many traders and merchants in this world." With that she pocketed the cap. Then she brought out a knife. "The second most valuable thing all the waste. A melee weapon. Sure, guns are normally better for the long haul, and you should probably use a gun to fight off the more serious stuff like muties or deathclaws, but when you're in a tunnel, surrounded by ghouls and with only a couple of bullets left, you're going to wish you had a knife. Melee weapons don't run out and they are silent, even if inconvient in a gun fight."

"I got one of those." Butch announced as he rejoined the conversation. He reached into his pocket and produced his signature pocket knife, Butch's toothpick, brandishing it proudly. Valentina said nothing, simply looking between the small blade of the pocket knife and much superior blade of the combat knife, before shrugging.

"A weapon's a weapon I suppose. Although, in this case, size does matter." She said a slight smile on her lips as she twisted her blade and sheathed it. "I think its needless to say that a gun is third most important. Last but not least, is food and water. More importantly water. The stuff you're going to find is irradiated and dirty, but you have to live with it. Its water and its going to keep you from dying out here. Less important is food. Why less important you ask? Well, there's enough of it to go around. You get hungry? Shoot an iguana, put it on a stick and eat it. Still hungry? Shoot a brahmin and make steak. Want something that's a challenge, shoot a Yao Guai and cook that. Not the smartest idea, but it'll feed you. The rest of what you do is designated as not important."

"What's a mutie? And a deathclaw?" Amata asked after she was done, remembering the two things referenced before. Valentina chuckled and looked at Amata with a dead serious look.

"Well, muties are short for Super Mutants, which are something that probably only existed in your nightmares kid. And deathclaws?" Valentina chuckled as she looked over the group. "They're your nightmare's worst nightmare. You see a deathclaw and it hasn't seen you…..You fucking run. You don't hide. It'll smell you. You don't shoot it. It'll just piss the damn thing off." She looked over them as fear glossed over all their eyes as they imagined the horror she was describing causing herself to realize something. These kids would not be ready to live in the wasteland long.

* * *

Valentina looked over the charred book in her hand, taking great care to open the book without ripping any page. The pages were stiff and brittle, mostly from age but Val was sure the fire she had pulled it from had contributed to it. She sighed as she looked at the first page. For the most part, it resemble many of the other pages in the damage it had taken, with mostly the corner singed off and completely unreadable while the rest of the page had simply taken heat damage. The book's pages were brown and had a distinct feel of dirt on it, though Valentina was always told this was simply because the book was old. She paused as Douglas turned in his bed, mumbling something angrily about his companion in the leather jacket.

Training went as well as one can expect from a bunch of unruly teenagers. They handled the theory well, but the execution was a failure before it even began most of the time. To make matters worse, whenever Butch or Douglas would fail, the other would make a quip or insult and test the others nerves as much as they could. By the end of the day, she was sure they were ready to turn their weapons on each other. Even Amata was glancing at them by this point, showing this clearly wasn't the normal amount of hate between the two teens. If it wasn't for the competition between the two that made them learn faster in order to outdo the other, she would have called them on it.

Douglas and Amata had managed to get beds in the common house this night, with many people from the previous night having moved on to another place, but Butch was nowhere to be seen. When she voiced a question regarding where he was, she was met with an angry snap of "I don't know" and a simple shrug of the shoulders. She can only guess that it happened before today's events, only glad the two hadn't decided to turn the weapons she gave them to practice on each other. Amata moved in her bed too, her eyes turning towards the room and looking towards Douglas.

Val sighed and stood up, still dressed as if to take off at a moment's notice. "You kid's play nice now." She commented with a low voice as to not walk the single other patron of the common house before she stepped towards the exit. Amata had done the same the previous night, tossing and turning for many hours before exhaustion had caused her to succumb to the sandman. She would never admit it, but Val had seen the tears that streaked her face that night despite the darkness, knowing the lack of sound meant she was holding it back. She supposed the two needed their time alone, perhaps to console one another if they wanted to. No one had told her the events of why they left the vault but she knew someone didn't leave somewhere as secure as a vault without some serious reasoning. Douglas she understood, the other two…that was another question.

When Val stepped outside, one of her question from earlier was finally answered. Before her, down the hell and the poorly made metal steps, stood a familiar, leather-clad bully, standing in front of the atomic bomb that Megaton was so named for. He had a hand on his chin, scratching it and having a rather frustrated look on his face. Sighing, she shook her head and walked over to where he stood, unsure why she cared for these three teens interpersonal problems. "So, enjoying the sight?" Valentina asked as she walked up to the teen.

"I'm just looking alright!" Butch snapped immediately, without looking back at her. Val paused for a moment, glaring as another one of the three snapped at her.

"You know, next person who snaps at me, I may have to castrate." She mentioned casually, drawing her knife and spinning it effortlessly in her hand. Butch looked back at her this time, swallowing hard before taking a few steps in the other direction. He didn't apologize or take back his words, something Val could respect, but something in his eyes stated he was sorry. "So, why exactly are you eyeing this thing like you're going to drag this thing behind Moriarty's and make Nova jealous?" Butch flushed a little at the prostitute's name, with Val unaware of the amount of flirting the red-headed woman had been doing with him lately.

"Just….." Butch began, his voice filled with a slight bit of bark before his eyes caught sight of the blade, still spinning in Valentina's hands. "…..Curious." He finished, his voice much calmer and filled with fear. Val shrugged, catching the spinning knife by the handle and pointing the blade towards the bomb.

'What's there to know? It's a Megaton atomic bomb. Beyond the residual radiation that it will release if one were to blow it up, it's just one million TNT bundled into one convenient metal package." Valentina shrugged. "This things were pretty popular in the war I'm told. Easy to drop from bombers and only took out a small portion of the land than say the missile guided Nukes. Probably back when people actually cared about what was going to be the consequence." Butch looked at her, a hint of surprise on his face as she displayed her knowledge of the bomb.

"You know explosives?" Butch questioned, seeming surprised by the fact.

"I know how to kill things and repair things. They're kind of my specialty." Val shrugged as she spoke. "Came in handy when Raiders used to attack my old settlement. A well slung grenade had them scatted like no one's business." Feeling as if something was beginning to block her throat, she quickly cleared it and simply shrugged past that. Thankfully, Butch didn't seem interested in her past life.

"Do you know anything about disarming this?" Butch asked, motioning towards the loose panel that was obvious, even in the moonlight. Val looked over him for a moment, skeptical if he was serious about this or if he was simply kidding.

"Yeah, I have heard theories. But, I've never tested any out. Unlike normal explosives, where worst case scenario is you're killed by a bad explosive, that's the only scenario for an atomic bomb. So, I'm kind of hesitant." Valentina said, her curiosity reaching new heights as she sheathed her knife once more. "You're not going to attempt it are you?" Butch sighed and scratched the back of his head.

"Man, I don't know. I can't sleep knowing there is an atomic bomb in the city, but I don't want to take the chance and end up killing everyone." Butch shrugged. "Shit, I need some sleep."

"Plenty of beds in the bunkhouse." Val baited, already knowing the response that she would receive. It was a vicious glare and she could sense that he wanted to say something derogatory but bit his tongue when his eyes fell on the knife.

"Fuck that." He said, eventually, looking back towards the explosive.

"So, what is your beef with each other? Last I saw, you were best buddies." Val wondered, staring at him with piercing eyes. Butch held his tongue for several moments before sighing and shaking his head.

"I'm a lot of things, but I am not a murderer. I would not blow up an entire town just for money." He told her, not supplying the context that went with the statement. But Valentina was able to put together what she imagined the fight happening over. She nodded, as if she understood.

"Tell me, how did you and Douglas meet?" She wondered, looking back towards him. Butch paused for a moment, eyeing her with suspicion before turning back towards the bomb.

"His dad convinced my mom to let him over for a playdate since there was only a few kids in the vault. Said that he wanted us to be friends. But I didn't want any friends at the time. So when he came over, I punched him and took his toy." Butch told her. The woman nodded along, having already guessed a history much like that.

"And, when was the next time you guys were in the same room together for longer than a few moments?"

"His ninth birthday party. His dad invited most of the kids in the vault and I came because I was bored. It was a stupid kiddy party and the robot ruined the damn cake. I told him to give me a sweetroll he had because I had come for the sweet." Butch paused as he continued to talk, as if he was beginning to realize something. "He offered to split it and…I punched him and tried to take it. Huh."

"And that ambush thing he's constantly holding over your head? Anything happen before that?" Valentina wondered, allowing her true intentions to seep into her voice at this point.

"I was…uh…..chatting up Amata and he told me to leave his girl alone, saying he was going to kick my ass." Butch paused, looking away from the atomic bomb and towards the sky. "I said…...My gang and I tried to teach him a lesson."

"Let me guess, he kicked your ass?" Valentina wondered. It was obvious enough, from the way that Butch was avoiding talking about the actual fight as much as possible. Not to mention there would be little need for an ambush later if they already won the fight before hand.

"Only because he shot below the belt!" Butch angrily responded. Val nodded as if this was a valid point, though she knew it wasn't. All was fair in love and war after all. And it seemed like Butch was mixing the two at the time, which was only asking for trouble.

"Well, seeing as you two have such a large and healthy history together, it's hard to see why you two would ever see the worst of each other. You must have done something so out-of-character that Douglas was absolutely shocked to see the worst side of you." Valentina commented, before sticking her hands in her pockets and walking up towards Moriarty's. Say what she wanted about the bastard, at least he sold beer through the night. She was aware that behind her, Butch opened his mouth as if to yell at her, only for nothing to come out as her words hit him. Eventually, he growled and threw his hand into the air, taking off in the opposite direction.

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**One thing I find when I take more liberties with the story that I am currently writing, the less I feel the need to explain when I write the final A/N. Unlike my Forever Family, where I essentially rewrote ME2 with a Shepard Sibling, this is like I am writing a completely different story that normal. But, enough of my rambling. This mostly focuses on Valentina and the training.**


	10. Chapter 10

**HEYO! Sorry about the really late update guys, and I also apologize for the rather short chapter. I really just haven't gotten around to posting this one. When I do tend to remember to post on my account, I almost always go for the newest story. But changing that up, I've decided that I've left you suspense long enough. By the way, FALLOUT 4 is confirmed! Woot! I know I am pre-ordering it the first moment I can...namely when I actually get money. In any case, you didn't come here to hear about my poverty stricken state and my delusions of envy. Read, Enjoy, Review.**

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"HEY! Barkeep, let me see the manager!" Valentina roared as she entered Moriarty's. Gob jumped at her sudden entrance, taking a quick moment to ensure that she wasn't waving around a weapon. Thankfully, all her weapons were sheathed, which allowed the ghoul behind the counter to calm down. Then, with a quick sigh, he turned and shouted:

"Moriarty! Customer wants to see you!" A couple of angry responses in a thick irish accent was his response about this, mostly about how the ghoul should learn to deal with customers himself. Despite this, around the corner came Moriarty, with a fake smile plastered on his face, leaving Gob to simply shake his head and lean against the counter at a fair distance from Valentin, making sure to keep an eye on the situation despite having his head down.

"What ya' need Lass?" he said in his thick, irish accent. Valentina pulled out a beer from her pack and set it on the counter with enough force to shake the makeshift bar, though making sure to hold back enough to keep the bottle from shattering.

"What the hell is this?" Valentina growled at him, growling in anger as he kept his fake smile on his face. It wasn't hard to get angry when she say that cocksure grin on the bastard's face. Moriarty gave an exaggerated sigh and looked down at the bottle, studying it for what seemed like a good number of seconds before shrugging his shoulders and waving his hand as if he had put a lot of effort into it.

"Looks like a normal bottle of beer lass. Something special about it?" He asked, his tone clearly mocking her. Val gripped the bottle much tighter, causing the glass to begin to creak underneath the strength of the grip. Gob began to inch away from the bar, being acute enough to notice the death grip she had on it.

"This is fucking water, you goddamn swindler!" Val angrily shouted, making sure her voice was loud enough to be heard. A few of the customers who had been paying apt attention now rolled their eyes, realizing it was just another traveler than was angry at Moriarty's schemes. However, the continued to watch nevertheless, happy for entertainment for the evening, with even some of the patrons from the far back now taking interest. Moriarty himself didn't even act surprised and the look in his eye said this had happened far more often than most other bartenders would have liked.

"Lookie here, lass. I won't have ya' slandering me good name here. You've been here before and ya know my beer is as good as any other wasteland saloon owner here. If not better. Now, please either order something or get out of me bar. You're upsetting the customers." Moriarty calmly told her, laying on his irish charm in an attempt to calm her down and motioning to his customers as he attempted to use them as an excuse. Val looked around in an exaggerated manner, trying to get the owner of the bar to realize his customers were rather happy with this turn in events. When her angered expression remained, Moriarty simply shrugged and made a move to turn around. Val gritted her teeth and quickly grabbed her bottle, throwing it at the wall across the bar in an attempt to regain his attention. The bottle whizzed past his ear, only a few inches from hitting the man before flying past harmless and shattering against the metal wall of the saloon.

"I'm not done talking here, Moriarty!" Val said through gritted teeth as Moriarty looked back towards her. She just had to keep him out here as long as she could. A few more minutes ought to be enough time if she believed them. Moriarty looked her over once more, as if checking to make sure she had no more to lob at him, taking careful note of the grenades at her belt. However, a few customers in the bar currently had their hands on their own weapons, worried that this simple argument could go south rather quickly. Enough that she would be dead long before she could get the grenade off her belt, though probably not before she pulled a pin. But he could easily dive back into his own office and avoid most of the blast in this case. Satisfied with his own safety, Moriarty laughed at her, as if unfazed by her attempt to intimidate him.

"But I am, lass. I got nothing more to say to ya." Moriarty made sure to tell her. "You'll be lucky if I don't make ya pay for the damages you've done to my bar. I suggest ya leave before I change my mind." Valentina made a deep throated growl, reaching suddenly for her belt. Everyone in the bar jumped, gripping their weapons and getting ready to pull the trigger on the woman to preserve their own safety. However, a collective sigh went around the room when the hand went past the grenade belt and into a pouch at her hip. Then, without further explanation, she grabbed a handful of caps and tossed it in the face of the owner Moriarty, who flinched as the caps struck him in the face.

"For damages." She said mockingly, before pushing angrily off the counter. She made sure to knock over one of the barstools on her way up, if nothing else to cause more of a commotion. "You should be glad I'm level-headed Moriarty. Else I would have blown the whole place!" She practically shouted the last part, as if she wanted everyone in the bar to hear it. To her success, it put everyone on edge, with them looking around cautiously as if they expected her to, at any moment, start lugging grenades around. Then, without much further complaints, she turned and walked out of the saloon, making sure to slam the door to the bar so hard that it shook the entire front wall. Moriarty chuckled at her actions, taking her leaving as a victory to him.

"Gob! Pick up the caps and add them to the register. And watch where your hands go. If one cap ends up in your pocket, you'll find your debt double what it is now." Moriarty told his ghoul bartender before turning to address the crowd before him. "Why is it always the pretty ones that are so crazy?" He announced aloud, chuckling as he did so. A few patrons of the bar chuckled with him but still appeared to be unsettled about the prospect of blowing up. Moriarty bit his lip and realized that unsettled customers were likely to buy less from him. "Well, first round of drinks is one the House!" He announced, much to his chagrin. This caused a good majority of the bar to smile and begin to loosen up. If Moriarty was giving away free beer, then now was not the time to worry about possible death. Moriarty turned towards his office, grabbing Gob by the arm and pulling him close as he whispered into his ear.

"Only the cheapest thing we have in stock. Nothing else!" He hissed into the ghoul's ear, making it seem like a threat to the bartender himself. He didn't inform the ghoul that the free drinks were coming out of his and Nova's salaries but they would find out soon enough. Then without another word, he entered his office and closed the door behind him. He approached his computer, wondering who he could blackmail in order to make up for the losses he would suffer today, sitting down in his chair and getting ready to punch in the password. Pausing when he realized that the computer was already open, he gave the computer a suspicious look as he knew he always locked the thing before leaving the room. Shaking his head, Moriarty reasoned that the crazy woman in the bar must have made him forget to lock the damn computer. Luckily no one can get back here without him noticing.

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"Well, I hope you got what you needed. I sure as hell ain't getting a drink in this town anymore." Val bitterly greeted the three teens as she met them in front of the water treatment plant. Amata and Douglas were panting, no doubt from the quick sprint they had just made from the Saloon, taking deep breaths to regain themselves, while Butch merely shrugged. Butch, having no skills that would have been helpful in this current endeavor, had remained behind at their meeting spot, amusing himself by playing with his knife until they returned. They didn't wait in suspense for long before Douglas confirmed Val's hope and nodded his head with a large smile on his face, holding up his pip-boy.

"I managed to download the file I needed before I took off. Moriarty apparently has one on everyone in town, mostly blackmail material." He sighed, shaking his head as he finally caught his breath. Val shrugged at the news, hardly finding the news that the Irish bar owner would have that. "But he did keep a note on Dad. Apparently my old man is heading to Galaxy News Radio, trying to meet some guy named Three Dog." Amata and Butch both looked relieved they now finally had a destination, blissfully unaware of Val's silent curse as she heard the destination.

"Where's Galaxy News?" Amata wondered, bringing up her own pip-boy as she did so. Their pip-boys only had a few locations programmed into them at the moment, so the trio from Vault 101 could always find their way back. They had downloaded a mapping program from one of the derelict satellites that floated up above, giving them an overview of the world below them for a low pixelated eagle eye view. It wasn't extremely descriptive nor very helpful in navigating terrain but it served as a decent map marker. Val sighed and walked over to the railing of the catwalk, leaning against it and folding her arms.

"Galaxy News Radio is in the middle of D.C. ruins. Which is overrun with _Mierda que te hará llorar._ Super Mutants, Centaurs, Talon Company and who knows what else." Val told them, waving her arm in annoyance. She shook her head as she said this, her heart beating as she thought about D.C. and its inhabitants. In all terms and respect, she was a veteran to the wasteland, having killed her fair share of Super Mutants and Centaurs to survive as would anyone who had lived this long. But going to D.C. was something she never thought she could survive, let alone never wanting to do it either. The place was crawling with Super Mutants that made the ones she'd killed look like children, and she had even heard tales that huge behemoths, roam the ruins, with one foot bigger than a car. She wasn't one who was prone to pay much mind to rumors, but the man who had told had a look in his eyes that told her it wasn't a lie. Not to mention it added a little more sense as to why the Brotherhood, despite their gear and training, could not maintain a firm grasp over the area.

Douglas was silent as he was aware of what she was telling him, thinking it over. His mind would not let him think of any other possibility that denied him his hunt for his father, even at the warning of monsters roaming the location he needed to arrive at. But the thought of putting Amata in danger or dying before he had a chance to even see his father both caused him pause. From the stories that Val had told them, things belonged to this wasteland that only existed in bedtime stories meant to scare children. Things such as Super Mutants, or Ghouls, or the monster known only as Deathclaws. However, he eventually shook his head, coming to a conclusion on the matter.

"Even if it is overrun with Super Mutants, I have to go. I have to know what my dad is doing. Why he left the vault." Douglas finally said, nodding his head. "But….I won't ask you to come with me. I won't….." Douglas began the second part, looking at Amata as he spoke, only to be silenced by her look.

"Douglas, I'll stand by you. No matter what." Amata told him, reaching down and taking his hand as she spoke. Douglas smiled warmly at this, glad she was coming even if he was worried about her safety. Butch rolled his eyes at the scene before him, throwing his hands up as if fed up with the situation.

"Jesus, it's like you two are always about to bang but never get to it." He griped at their current positon, causing a blush to form on both of their faces and to quickly let go of one another's hand. "Besides, don't forget I'm coming. I sure as hell ain't staying in a town with an active atomic bomb and with a nut who worships the damn thing." Douglas grimaced at this announcement, but he said nothing to dissuade the former bully. If Valentina was right, then just having anyone there with an additional gun would greatly benefit his survivability. As much as he hated it. "Not to mention that damn common house smells like the latrine after someone forgot to flush and I sure as hell can't sleep with that smell." Butch added as an after remark, acting as though it was something he had just remembered.

Douglas shook his head, unsure whether to remind Butch that the common house that they had been staying in was the only free things in town or to just ignore the comment altogether. Choosing the path less taken, Douglas opted for the second option, turning towards his mentor for the past two days. "Thanks, for distracting Moriarty for us. I'm sure getting the information would have been much harder without you." Douglas thanked her as he talked. Val shrugged, but her face was still a mix of emotions that kept her from responding fully to the thanks. Amata walked up beside him, looking at Valentina with a similar look of gratitude.

"Yes, if it wasn't for you, I don't think any of us would even be able to survive a day. I hope we meet again once this is all over." Amata told her. Val suddenly snapped her head in their direction, causing both Douglas and Amata to almost jump in surprise at the quickness of the action.

"Fuck no. I sure as hell am not allowing you guys to go into D.C. Ruins by yourself." Valentina told them, waving her hand in annoyance, her face finally becoming readable once more. Douglas and Amata looked at her with a mixture of confusion and hope, while Butch simply smirked at what she said. She took a deep breath and rubbed her head in annoyance. "_Hijo de puto. _Going into D.C. was not on my bucket list."

"You don't have to come Val. You've already done more than enough for us." Amata spoke on behalf of her and Douglas.

"_Suficiente no va a salvarte_. Look kid, I did not just spend two days of my life teaching someone to survive just so they could go get themselves killed the moment I look away. _No otra vez_." She shook her head and took a deep breath, as if she couldn't believe the situation that they were currently in. "If I had my way, I wouldn't let you go to the D.C. ruins until you had years worth of experience surviving out here. And even then, I would highly advise against it. But both you and I know you're going to be stubborn about this, so I won't waste my breath." She finished her small tirade with another shake of the head before placing a gaze of them that seemed to be studying them, intently looking over what was soon to be her three travelling companions, before sighing and shaking her head.

"Those jumpsuits ain't going to stop a blunt blade. We need to get you something to wear that will actually help you." Val told them. She shook her head and looked towards the only supply store in town, already feeling her bundle of caps getting lighter as she walked, her mind drifting to how she was going to make these kids pay her back for this.

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**Well, I was going to include a snippet where Frank and James arrived at Galaxy News, but after three attempts, I really could not get the portion out so I had to scrap it. That being said, I do have a plan for them and the next chapter will probably be Frank and James-centric. Again, I do apologize for my late and rather random updates, as opposed to my other stories where I can do it at a rather determinable interval. In any case, I don't have much to discuss with this chapter. **

**Note: I don't give translations to the story because I think its better if i don't. That's literally the only reason. I don't have a particularly grand excuse. So...there.**


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